


My Boyfriend the Zombie

by TVTime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Absent Parents, Anal Sex, Anger, Athena the Cat, Bad Parenting, Barebacking, Bisexual Male Character, Bitsy Dunbar Liam's Dog, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Boys Kissing, Breeding, Brett's Abs, Briam, Character Death, Cold Zombie Brett Talbot, Cool Chimera Corey Bryant, Creepy Older Guys, Crushes, Drinking to Cope, Eight Pack Brett, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Maturity, First Crush, Forgiveness, Good Theo Raeken, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Hive Mind, Homeless Theo Raeken, Horror, Humor, Hunters, Invisibility, Jealous Theo Raeken, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Mad Scientist Theo, Mad Scientists, Mason is a Good Friend, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Mind Link, Mind Meld, Moral Ambiguity, Murder, Naked Brett, Obsession, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, POV Multiple, Pack Leader Liam Dunbar, Post-Canon, Post-Series, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Liam, Protective Parents, Recovering Psychopath Theo Raeken, Redemption, Resurrection, Rimming, Science Boyfriends, Science Fiction, Science Guy Mason Hewitt, Secrets, Sloppy Makeouts, Sloppy Seconds, Smut, Step-parents, Theo Has Feelings, Thiam, Thirsty Mason Hewitt, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Corey Bryant, Traumatized Nolan Holloway, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, Wendigos, Werewolf Senses, Zombie Biology, Zombie Brett Talbot, Zombie Senses, Zombies, good parents, morey, sexy zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TVTime/pseuds/TVTime
Summary: Spoilers for 6B/entire seriesA week after the Anuk-Ite is defeated Theo resurrects Brett as a zombie in an attempt to make Liam happy, while Nolan copes with Gabe's death, and Corey and Mason explore a new dimension of their relationship. Meanwhile, enemies old and new converge on Beacon Hills and threaten to shatter the fragile peace.Post-series fic. Everything that happened in canon also happened in this story universe with no alternations.Ch 3: Morning GoryTheo hesitated, unsure about collaborating with anyone, especially a non-scientist. Although, technically Theo wasn’t a scientist either, and the Dread Doctors had worked together as a team.“Okay, I guess we can see how that goes.”“Great!” Mason’s face lit with excitement. “I can’t wait to get my hands on your equipment!”Liam sniggered and Brett smirked at Mason.“Hislabequipment.”Theo shrugged. “Just don’t break anything.”“I’ll be gentle,” Mason assured him with a smirk of his own.“You’ll have to play with his equipment later.” Liam held up his phone. “We gotta get going.





	1. Grave Concerns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a post-series story that contains spoilers for 6B and potentially the entire series. Everything that happened in canon also happened in this story universe with no alternations. It begins about a week after the Anuk-Ite and the hunters were defeated and centers around Brett, Liam, Theo, Nolan, Corey, and Mason as the six protagonists. Join them as they cope with the fallout of the war and Brett’s resurrection as a zombie while also facing enemies both old and new who threaten to destroy Beacon Hills.
> 
> * * *
> 
> This chapter used to be a prologue, but I decided it wasn’t how I wanted to begin the story and replaced it with the proper first chapter instead.
> 
> General content warning: This story is dark with lots of sex, violence, and potentially disturbing themes.

**Chapter 1: Grave Concerns**

“It’s not fair that you’re gone. That even in a town like Beacon Hills death is final. It shouldn't be. There should be a way to bring you back.”

Nolan cleared his throat and reached for the blue bottle propped between his legs on the grass. He unscrewed the cool metal cap and took a trembling draught of the fruity beverage.

“Natalie finally started buying me alcohol after I told her you died.” Nolan smacked his lips and sniffled. The cold night air was making his nose run. He ignored the ache in the pit of his stomach. “I lied though. I told her you were my boyfriend.”

Gabe didn’t say anything, just lay there in his grave being dead. Since there was no indication he was rolling over, Nolan took it as a go-ahead to continue.

“I didn’t, like, know...” Nolan wedged the bottle back between his legs and picked at an overgrown blade of grass. “I didn’t know I had those feelings for you, but my therapist helped put it in perspective.”

Nolan was bored staring at Gabe’s headstone, so he took out his phone and pulled up a picture of him. It was his favorite. Gabe was shirtless and sweaty, smirking at Nolan with his hands on his hips. It was from the beginning of the year following a morning run they had gone on one Saturday right before all the supernatural crap got bad.

“I thought I liked girls while we were friends.” Nolan shrugged and unscrewed the cap on his drink. “But then again I thought I liked boys before that.” He took a sip and swished it around his mouth before swallowing. “Maybe I’ll like girls again. Or maybe I’m bi. My dad says bisexuals just want attention, but he says that about a lot of people...about me.” Nolan took one more swallow before screwing the cap back on. “So I guess I’m bi.”

“It’s Blue Beast.” Nolan held the bottle out and shook it at Gabe’s headstone. “Seagram’s, you know? It’s fruity but...” Nolan giggled and laid the bottle on the grass. “I might be gay so I guess it works.”

“I dunno what bisexuals drink, but if I coulda gotten Natalie to buy us somethin’ while you were alive, we probably woulda had beers, huh?” Nolan tilted his head and imagined himself and Gabe sitting on his couch sharing a case and flicking the bottle caps at each other. Maybe they would have gotten drunk and made out. Maybe…maybe more.

“Would you have let me blow you?” Nolan frowned and dug the toe of his shoe into the dirt. “Or would you have kicked my ass for asking?” He touched his face just below his eye. The bruise Gabe had left there had almost faded. The ones he had left on the inside hadn't, but that's what the Blue Beast was for.

“Hey, speaking of someone kickin’ my ass, did I tell ya I tole Liam and his friends I wasn’t the one who shot up McCall’s house?” Nolan patted the barren mound of damp earth beside him. “I wasn’t tryin’ to getcha in trouble or anything, but since you’re dead...”

Nolan ran a hand through his hair without thinking, caking it with dirt. Oh well. He pushed his bangs into his eyes and stared at the giant flecks of dirt as he idly rolled his fingers over them, matting the locks together.

“But he didn’t – kick my ass. He’s actually been like the only person who’s been kinda nice to me lately. Coach made us co-captains of the lacrosse team. It’s weird after everything but…I kinda like playin' with Liam.”

Nolan dissolved into a fit of laughter and grabbed his bottle. “That was a joke ‘cause I kinda wanna _play_ with Liam. He’s hot.”

Nolan sniffled some more as he took another swing of his drink. Stupid cold air. “I miss you.”

* * *

Theo turned a corner and stepped out of the shadows. He blinked up at the glaring fluorescent lights that lined the underside of the tattered store awning. The sidewalk leading to the door was cracked and uneven, and the building’s weathered plaster facade was chipped and crumbling around the edges. Was it imprudent to buy tools from a hardware store in disrepair?

Theo smirked as he tugged the door open and the misshapen bell above it clanked more than chimed. He liked this store. It wasn’t trying too hard. And maybe it would be cheap. Theo wasn’t exactly flush with cash.

“Hi, welcome to Palace Hardware.” The young clerk was perched on a stool behind a battered counter, a cell phone in his hand. “Help ya find somethin’?”

“I need a sledgehammer.”

The clerk furrowed his brow and looked Theo over before waving his arm toward the back of the store, the cell phone dangling precariously. “Aisle nineteen. They might be a little dusty. We don’t sell too many.”

Theo nodded in acknowledgment and headed in the direction indicated, stepping around an elderly woman in the plumbing aisle who smelled like coffee, biscuits, and old lady perfume.

The store only had one kind of sledgehammer and only four units of it. Theo picked one up by the head and shook it. The handle didn’t rattle. Good enough. He grabbed a crowbar from a little further up the aisle – an impulse buy, but one that might prove useful – and took his items to the front to checkout.

The old lady was leaning against the counter digging around in her giant, beat-up purse. 

“That’ll be $2.97,” said the clerk as he dropped her single purchase, a faucet aerator, into a small plastic bag.

The woman hummed and triumphantly pulled out her checkbook. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t take checks,” he said as she unzipped it.

“Aww hickorysticks!” She slumped against the counter under the weight of the news. “Could you make an exception? I don’t have that much cash.”

“We take debit and credit.”

“I never use those.” She tsked and shook her head. “The government uses them to spy on you and fiddle you out of your benefits.”

“Well, let me call my manager and see what he says.”

Theo groaned and leaned heavily on his sledgehammer. 

Why was he waiting? He could leave. The store obviously didn’t have security cameras. 

In fact...he could do whatever he wanted.

Theo’s fingers twitched as he eyed the prominent artery in the woman’s sunken neck. Blood pulsed beneath the surface, screaming to be unleashed. Stupid old bitch. Theo was busy. Who was she to get in his way? 

He curled his hand tighter around the handle of the sledgehammer as his claws extended and tickled the heel of his hand. They felt _dry._ It had been almost a week since he had gotten blood on them that night at the hospital when he and Liam had fought the hunters.

 _Liam._ Liam wouldn’t approve of Theo wetting his claws in old lady blood. 

The woman turned and smiled at him. He smiled back. 

Liam wouldn’t have to know.

He glanced at the clerk. His back was turned, the spiraled cord of a landline wound around his arm as he yammered about store policy. Theo could kill him before he could hang up and call 911. Fuck it, _let_ him call 911. Theo would be long gone before they arrived.

Theo’s heart pounded and he licked his lips. 

Yes. 

_YES!_

_Tear her throat out. Smash her head open with the sledgehammer. Impale the clerk on the crowbar._

_Tear her throat out._

“I’m sorry to hold up the line.”

Theo nodded pleasantly.

_Smash her head open._

“Ma’am, my manager says we can’t take your check.”

_Impale the clerk._

“Did you tell him I have ID?”

_Tear._

“It wouldn’t make a difference.”

_Smash._

“I’ll have to put it back then.”

_Impale._

“Do you maybe have enough change to get to $2.97?”

_Tear. Smash. Impale._

“Let me check.”

_TearSmashImpale._

Theo took a deep breath and shut his eyes. “That won’t be necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

He opened his eyes. They were both looking at him blankly. Lambs for the slaughter.

He let go of the sledgehammer, careful to keep his hand turned and his claws hidden. 

“You won’t need to worry about that.” 

He grinned so wide his lips twitched and strained. The clerk said something, but all Theo could hear was their blood whooshing in his ears.

_TearSmashIm–_

He sighed and reached into his back pocket. “It’s on me.” He retracted his claws and pulled out his wallet.

The old lady’s face lit up. “Oh, I hate to impose on your kindness.”

Theo swallowed and pushed aside the image of blood gushing down the side of her face. His pulse had slowed by the time he set the sledgehammer and crowbar on the counter. “Where would any of us be without kindness?”

“That's so true!” She patted his back as he passed the clerk his debit card. “If only there were more young men like you in the world.”

“Oh, I doubt the world could handle that,” Theo said with a wink.

The transaction went through. He wasn’t sure it would. He was bound to be overdrawn by now.

The old woman shuffled out of the store in front of Theo. “Do you need a ride somewhere?” she asked, pointing at a dented silver car with one hubcap missing. It was the only vehicle in the lot.

“I’m parked around back,” Theo answered. 

“Okay then. Good night and thanks again.” She waved, but before she could take a complete step, she stumbled on the uneven pavement.

Theo lunged forward and latched onto her arm as she fell, holding her upright until she had regained her footing. 

“Fuck my titties, that was close!” She clutched her chest over her thundering heart.

“Indeed it was.” Theo guided her off the sidewalk and onto the relatively more even parking lot.

“You're my savior tonight.”

“Well,” Theo smiled with as much sincerity as he could muster. “I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

* * *

_Rural Maine_

“I’m dumpin’ Lanie if she don't put out this weekend.” Dale ignored the beep from his phone indicating the battery was low. “No, I didn’t call ya just to tell ya that, asshat. I called ya to talk about the party on Saturday.”

He flicked on his high beams but didn’t slow down as he entered a deer crossing zone. “It’s her last chance. Bitch, better suck my cock.”

Dale clenched the steering wheel as Todd tried to pick a fight with him by challenging his attitude. 

“Look, man, I hear ya. Hashtag me too and all that. And don’t worry, I’m not gonna pressure her. I’m gonna say, ‘Lanie, shut up and put that big, fat mouth of yours to good use or we’re done.’ But I’ll be real respectful-like about it.”

The phone beeped again. _Ugh, pieca trash._

“Ayuh!” Dale slapped the wheel. “‘Course I’ve had a blowjob before. I’ve had tons of ‘em!”

Dale had found his older brother’s Fleshlight a couple weekends ago while he was out of town on a hunting trip. He had nutted in it five times in sixteen hours before he had to let it dry out so Ryan wouldn’t know when he got home. It had the mouth opening, so that counted as a blowjob. Dale would have fucked pussy and ass too if Ryan wasn’t too cheap to buy more inserts.

Another warning beep.

“Geezus fuck, imma have to letcha go, bro. My phone’s a needy sonofa.” 

There was no response. 

“Todd?” 

The screen had gone black.

“Thirteen hours of battery life my ass.” Dale waited until he had rounded a curve in the road before reaching into the darkened passenger seat and groping around for his charger. All he felt were the remnants of his fast food dinner – fry carton, burger wrapper, napkins, crumpled paper bag. Shit, he had seen it that morning on his way to school. Maybe it fell on the floor.

He eased off the accelerator and looked around. The road was deserted and it’s not like he wasn’t a good driver, so he unhooked his seatbelt and leaned over until his hand brushed the floormat. 

_Eww, when was the last time Mom cleaned my car? What even is this, a raisin? Oh wait, here it–_

A heavy, wet thunk exploded across the car and sent Dale’s shoulder careening into the dashboard as he tumbled sideways out of his seat.

Pain ripped through the side of his body and his stomach lurched. He could _feel_ something beneath him kicking and thrashing against the underside of the still moving car. 

He had to stop. He had to steer. He had to–

He climbed back into his seat but was hurled against the roof and the steering wheel as the car slammed into something with a screeching crunch. 

Sideways. 

The whole car was leaning sideways and at a downward angle. 

Dale trembled and gasped for breath. Terror seized him as his vision clouded over and the engine let out a rumbling hiss. 

Was he injured?! Was he bleeding?! 

He couldn't– He couldn't–

A cold, detached feeling washed over him and he became too dizzy to focus on the pain and fear. He was only distantly aware of the thing under the car as it made a few more feeble kicks and went still.

* * *

Theo pulled up to Beacon Hills Cemetery, turned off his truck, and cracked the door. He listened. It was a precaution, and one he had expected would prove unnecessary, but instead he caught the sound of a mumbled voice and a human heartbeat. 

He gripped his keys, ready to turn the ignition and drive away until he recognized the voice. 

He narrowed his eyes. What was _he_ doing here? 

Theo grunted and yanked the keys from the ignition as he hopped out of the truck. Getting rid of Nolan was a trifling inconvenience and not worth a second trip, so he grabbed his new sledgehammer and crowbar from the bed of the truck, slung his old shovel and tarp over his shoulder, and stormed into the cemetery like he owned the place. 

As he understood it the real owner was a werewolf about his age who had been in Scott’s pack until he moved to France. Maybe Theo would make the guy an offer if his fortunes ever turned around. He had a knack for disposing of bodies. He'd might as well turn it into gainful employment.

He cut across rows of graves, clanking the headstones with the end of his crowbar to make himself more menacing. He had no intention of harming Nolan or he would have made himself _nonthreatening_ instead. He just wanted to scare him away. 

It didn’t work. Theo realized why as he smelled alcohol and noted the indistinct slur of Nolan’s words as he talked to... _shit,_ Gabe’s gravestone.

Theo hesitated, unsure why it made a difference, why he felt like slinking away without disturbing Nolan. 

He cocked his head. What were Nolan and Gabe to each other? Comrades in a fanatical war or something else? Something like him and Liam? 

_Liam._ Liam wouldn’t want Theo to be cruel to Nolan, but Liam was also the reason Theo was here, and dammed if he would let Nolan interfere with that.

“Nolan.”

The ex-hunter yelped and whipped his head around. A blue bottle slipped from his fingers as he stumbled to his feet. It was empty based on the sound it made when it hit the grass.

“Theo!” Nolan snatched the bottle back up and held it by the neck like a weapon.

“Go away and that won’t be necessary.”

Nolan’s posture indicated imminent compliance, but then his unfocused gaze widened on the shovel propped across Theo’s shoulder, and he took a protective, if clumsy, step closer to Gabe’s grave.

“I’m not here for him.” Theo strode forward and met Nolan’s bleary eyes. This was his last chance to do things the pleasant way. “Leave.”

Nolan licked his lips and darted back, tripping over the grave next to Gabe’s and once again dropping his bottle. He didn't pick it up this time, just skittered away backwards on his hands and feet until he hit the next row of headstones and rolled over. He sprang up and stumble-ran into the darkness.

He wasn't supposed to do that. He wasn't supposed to smell _this_ afraid.

Theo took slow, calming breathes and rooted his feet in place. Nolan was like a deer begging to be chased, hunted, torn apart.

Theo's spine twitched and a sharp, nervous energy rippled through his body. He longed to drop to all fours and let his wolf have its prey, but...

He swallowed and stared up at the nearly full moon with glowing eyes and a mouth full of fangs. He wasn't a werewolf. And it wasn't the moon driving his bloodlust. He had a choice.

Theo didn't move until he heard Nolan’s car door slam.

* * *

“Aww _fuck,_ ” Corey moaned as he slammed his bare cock into the stranger stretched across his bed. “His ass feels so good, Mace.” 

He pulled out until his glans caught on the guy’s rim, rocked back and forth a few times, and drove back in hard and fast.

“Uhnn, his mouth too,” Mason whined, bouncing on his toes beside the bed and using his thumbs to guide his spit-slicked cock further down the stranger’s throat.

Corey spread the guy’s thighs wider and lifted his hips off the bed, desperate to rail him deeper as he tracked a bead of sweat down Mason’s tight, sinewy lower stomach and into his curly, close-cropped pubes. Corey reach over and scratched his fingertips through the tidy nest of damp hair, grinning at the evidence of Mason’s prolonged, labored fucking. They had been taking turns on the guy for well over an hour, but Corey had spent more time in his ass since as a chimera it was safe for him to bareback, whereas Mason had to use a condom.

Mason clutched the side of Corey’s head and guided him up so they were face to face, leaving the guy between them to do most of the riding and sucking for them. “I’ve been on the edge nonstop for the last ten minutes.”

“Me too.” Corey squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against Mason’s as he took another hard, reckless thrust, half-hoping it would be too much and he would _finally_ spill his load. His cock felt un-fucking-believable and even with his naturally low core temperature his whole body was hot and sweaty. 

“Let’s see if we can make him cum a fourth time.” Mason said it loud enough for the guy to hear. He whimpered and clutched Mason’s ass as he gagged himself on Mason’s cock. “He deserves to blow one more time while we’re creaming both ends.”

Corey nodded and rolled back on his ankles, adjusting the angle of his thrusting until the guy’s ass clenched around him and his spent dick stirred. _Got it._ Corey paused and took a deep breath, getting himself under control before driving in against the same spot. Holy fuck, the guy better not take long.

Mason’s hands were on the guy’s chest, kneading his pecs and tweaking his nipples. The guy whined and thrashed but didn’t try to break contact. If Corey and Mason were sweaty, their well-fucked stranger was an absolute mess. His toned, muscular torso was drenched in sweat and his own cum. Corey and Mason had held back all night, waiting for a big finish, but the guy hadn’t been shy about unloading every chance he got. He’d lost his erection after the second time, cum with a semi the third, and been soft ever since but showed no signs of wanting to stop.

Corey played with the guy’s junk with a focused intensity, massaging his balls and rolling the pad of his finger against the underside of the guy’s flared dickhead. Soon the guy was heavy in Corey’s hand. He could maybe cum like this, but Corey wanted to make sure it was as good for him as possible, so he added more lube and tickle-rubbed the guy’s shaft, coaxing it until it was full and stiff.

“I fucking love watching you work his dick.”

“I know you do, babe.” Corey let go long enough to pat Mason’s chest. 

“It’s-it’s really hot.” Mason’s face scrunched with concentration and the base of his cock pulsed between the guy’s lips.

“Yeah?” Corey tapped his finger against the guy’s tip, showing Mason the bead of precum he’d eeked out. “You wanna know how my cock feels right now?”

“Yeah.” Mason nodded brokenly and rolled his hips in a circle.

“It’s tingling all over.” Corey drew his eyebrows together and gave Mason his most innocent, awe-struck look, knowing what it did for him. “And it’s throbbing so much, Mace. My head keeps rubbing his hot inner walls and it’s just– it’s... _sparrrrks._ ”

“Aaah!” Mason rammed as far as he could down the guy’s throat and collapsed forward against Corey’s chest.

Corey held his boyfriend with one arm and jerked the stranger with a frenzy as he gave up any restraint and went wild on his ass, bucking and bouncing harder than he had all night.

The stranger’s ass clamped around Corey’s cock and his hips arched off the bed as he dribbled a fourth load into Corey’s hand. The volume was unimpressive, but the way he thrashed and gagged and moaned was anything but. 

Time stopped as Corey hit the point of no return. His mouth dropped open and his cock throbbed and spasmed, every nerve-ending alight with a sensitivity that was almost too much to take. Each thrust through the guy’s fluttery-tight ring was heaven and Corey rode the edge as long as he could before exploding, blasting a stream of cum that he could _feel_ spraying out of his swollen, throbbing tip. 

_Fuuuuuuuck!_

He clutched Mason’s back, quaking and panting as the torrents kept firing out of him. 

“That’s it, Cor, keep pumping! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” Mason whispered against his mouth. He had moved closer, climbing fully onto the bed and dislodging his cock from the guy’s throat. “Fill him all the way.”

Corey closed his eyes and gave a trembling nod because he was doing just that, taking long, sloppy thrusts in and out of a fully coated, squelching hole. _Awww fuck_ it felt good. He plunged his tongue through Mason’s soft lips as endorphins engulfed his brain. 

Mason moaned into Corey’s mouth and writhed in his arms, and through the cloudy, sublime haze, Corey noted a vigorous slurping sound. Their stranger was eating Mason out as Corey gently fucked his bred hole. A loopy grin formed on Corey’s lips even as he probed his tongue deeper into Mason’s hot mouth. 

They made out until eventually they had to stop to let the stranger off Corey’s cock and out from under Mason’s thighs. Mason jerked Corey’s slick erection and darted his eyes down and back as he wiggled his bottom. 

_Oh yeah,_ that was for sure happening as soon as the guy left and Corey washed his cock. How could he _not_ make full use of Mason’s rimmed hole?

“I’ll walk you out,” Corey said, as the stranger slid to the edge of the mattress. He bounced to his toes and hopped off the bed ahead of him, ignoring his swollen, dripping cock, so he could offer the guy a hand and help him up.

“Fuck, how are you still so energetic? I can barely stand.”

Corey wrapped an arm around the guy’s back and supported him while they scanned the bedroom for his clothes.

“Well, I wasn’t the one taking two cocks like a champ.” Corey gave him a quick squeeze and pecked his lips before separating to retrieve the guy’s pants from the opposite side of the room.

Mason sat up and patted the guy’s thigh while Corey gathered the rest of his clothes. “Thanks for a fun evening.”

“Yeah, thanks for” –the guy chuckled and ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair– “just thanks.”

“You can shower if you want,” Corey said, pausing before handing him his shirt. He really was a sweaty, cummy mess.

“Will when I get home,” the guy answered, taking his shirt and tugging it over his head.

“You’re, uh...” Corey cleared his throat and smirked as the guy turned to pull on his underwear, revealing a thick trail of Corey’s cum dribbling down the back of his thighs. 

“Yeah.” He returned the smirk and stepped into his jeans. “You guys are _a lot_ of fun. This was just what I needed tonight.” He kissed Mason’s cheek then followed Corey out of the room.

Corey leaned over and flicked on a lamp as they entered the living room.

“You ever bottom?”

Corey felt the guy staring at his bare ass as he crossed the room ahead of him. “Yep.”

“I would have liked that,” he answered, lingering by the front door.

“Shoulda asked.” Corey shrugged and gave the guy a tight hug before opening the door. “Drive safe...”

“Mike,” he answered as he stepped outside.

“Hey, you finally told me!” Corey peered around the door and grinned at him, careful not to flash the neighbors. “Drive safe, Mike. There’re a lot of crazies out there.”

* * *

“He’s having a seizure.” Valdés’ tone was calm, almost soothing, but her words carried a clear urgency.

Monroe turned in her seat to check on her injured soldier. Davis was wild-eyed and drooling as he convulsed beside Valdés.

“And now he’s bleeding again.” Valdés caught Davis’ flailing arm and applied pressure to the makeshift bandage, stemming the fresh stream of blood that flowed down his elbow and dripped all over the seat and his already saturated shirt.

Before Monroe could respond, her driver turned to her with a haunted expression.

“They killed Tarses and Walsh.” Taylor’s hand shook on the steering wheel. “They’re dead.”

“I know.” She arched her brow and gave him a hard look. “I was there, soldier.” 

“I'm not,” Taylor whispered, returning his eyes to the road. “I’m not a soldier. I’m just a bank teller.”

What he was, was the weakest link in tonight’s six-person mission. Monroe would have happily traded Taylor’s life for either Tarses’ or Walsh’s, but in the week since the Anuk-Ite’s influence had vanished the number of hunters she could count on to reliably answer the call of duty had dwindled. The SUV’s current occupants aside, she barely had enough forces to field a second unit. She’d be damned if she would let anyone else desert. 

“You signed up to fight a war, to save human lives, to defend the helpless against monsters.” She dropped a hand on Taylor’s shoulder and squeezed. “That makes you a soldier, Ross, a hero.”

He cleared his throat and a proud smile formed across his face, but it was short-lived as they pulled up to a traffic light. “But Tarses and Walsh...”

“Knew the risks and died as heroes.”

He licked his lips. “We’re gonna go back to recover their bodies, right?”

“No.” Monroe stared into the darkness that bore down on them from all directions. “I doubt there’s much left to recover.”

“If anyone’s interested, Davis’ seizure is over and I managed to stop the bleeding.” Valdés’ tone was ice.

“Run the light,” Monroe ordered before turning her attention to the row of seats behind her. “Nice work, Lieutenant.”

The SUV crept forward, Taylor’s head darting all around in the periphery of Monroe’s vision.

“Soldier, it’s the middle of the night. You would see headlights if someone were coming.” 

“R-right.”

“I think...have...fever.” Davis’ head lolled against the headrest, his arm clutched to his chest.

“Are those things venomous?” Valdés asked Monroe.

Monroe ignored the question, which she couldn’t answer. “You’ll be fine,” she told Davis, framing it as an order rather than a reassurance. “We’re going to consult an expert in supernatural healing.”

Valdés’ lips parted and she tensed. “You're taking him, _us,_ to the McCall emissary.”

Monroe smiled. Valdés was the only one of her people who would have caught that, or even known werewolf packs had emissaries. She had chosen her second in command well. “I am.”

Valdés clearly wanted to question the decision, but held her tongue.

Monroe’s smile deepened and she decided to reward her lieutenant’s faith with information. 

“I’ve been monitoring Beacon Hills over the past week. Anyone who would have been a threat to us has already left. Scott’s in France with his girlfriend. The banshee and the Sheriff’s son are both away at college. The hybrid and the former alpha are back in London, and Gerard’s traitorous son is in South America with Derek Hale.”

“And the others?” Valdés tipped her head, concern tightening her features. “The werewolf you exposed and his friends?”

“Liam?” Monroe laughed. “Oh, Liam and his pack of misfits are the least of our concerns.”

* * *

_Rural Maine_

Dale trudged down the darkened highway, his arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders hunched in a pointless attempt to ward off the cold November air. He was pissed that his parents hadn’t found him yet, or that apparently Todd hadn’t called the police when their call dropped. What kind of friend didn’t call the police when their buddy’s call dropped? Dale was so done with that chimpdick. Imagine making an accident victim _walk_ home. Lanie would be outraged when he told her later. She’d probably suck his cock to make him feel better. Any decent girlfriend would. He’d be sure to tell her that.

“Fucking finally,” Dale muttered as a car slowed behind him and pulled over. 

Dale didn’t know much about cars, but this one seemed unremarkable – old but not that old, small but not that small, dark, maybe black or navy. It was hard to tell without much light. It had power windows though, which it demonstrated as the front passenger side rolled down to reveal an empty seat. 

“Need a ride?” The voice was young, female. Dale breathed a sigh of relief. He knew better than to get in a car alone with some gruff, middle-aged man named Billy Bob who’d take him home to his farm and feed him to his hogs, but accepting a ride from a young woman was safe.

“Thanks,” Dale called as he approached the car and got in. 

He did a double take and grinned when he saw the driver. She was a hot Asian chick with long, dark hair that partially covered one side of her oval face. She wore nice, thick makeup with heavy eyeshadow and bright red lipstick. Dale hated girls who pretended the natural look was okay. Half the bitches in his class felt comfortable walking around school with their hair pulled back and acne all over their foreheads. It was disgusting and so inconsiderate of the people who had to look at them. 

“Where can I take you?”

“Anywhere you want,” Dale answered with a crooked nod.

“Is that so?” She smiled at him, her hair falling further into her face. She unzipped her jacket, revealing a low-cut blue blouse before she shifted the car into gear and pulled back onto the road. Her tits were small but perky. 

“I just live up the road apiece. I’ll letcha know where to turn.” Dale ran his eyes over the rest of her body. She wore a knee-length red skirt that made Dale’s cock stir as he thought about lifting it and stroking the inside of her thighs. He discreetly brushed his palm over his crotch. He’d go higher and higher until his fingers were in her panties. A girl like this probably went full Brazilian, probably couldn't wait to show off her smooth, pretty cooch. “So, I was just in an accident awhile ago.”

“Oh my god.” She raised a hand to her perky little chest and gave him a sympathetic smile, her fake eyelashes batting. “Are you okay?”

“I dunno,” Dale answered, allowing a whine to slip into his voice as he rubbed his shoulder. “My arm hurts. Some stupid deer with a death wish ran in front of me and made me hit a tree.”

“How traumatic.” Her fingers grazed his shoulder.

“It really was.” Dale turned his head from side to side, easing the stiffness in his neck. “The government oughta arrest all those deers or somethin’. I mean, that one’s dead, but I bet he has like a whole gang waitin’ at home to cause trouble.”

She gave him a dull look that made him self conscious. She must have been one of those liberals from Down East who didn’t believe in detaining unregistered deers. He didn’t want to get political so he decided to change the subject.

“You from ‘round these parts? I notice ya got an accent.”

“Montreal.”

“No shit! I was thinkin’ ya were Asian.” 

“My family moved from Vietnam after the war.”

“Oh yeah, which war’s that?”

She sighed and held out her hand. “I’m Mimi.”

“Dale.” He clasped her fingers, surprised by how rough and cold they were, and it might have been a trick of the moonlight, but it looked like there were bruises on her knuckles. “You live ‘round here long, Mimi?”

“I lived...not long no.” 

“Well how old are ya anyway?” 

“Dale.” She clicked her tongue. “It’s rude to ask a lady that.”

Dale sniggered, positive she was flirting with him. “I just wanna know if it’s legal for you to touch me.”

She slowed the car and turned more fully in her seat as she looked him over. He sat up straight, puffing out his chest. The shadows gave her face a weird sunken look, but he dismissed it. There was enough light to see she was hot like he had thought.

“I assure you _when_ I touch you, there won't be anything legal about it.” Mimi’s tongue flicked across her pouted lips as she pulled the car over.

Dale swallowed hard, a pang of apprehension fluttering in his gut. “I-I’m seventeen.”

“Twenty-three,” she answered, unhooking her seatbelt.

 _Dayuuum!_

Tonight was turning out way better than it had started. 

“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t,” he answered, reaching across the seat and squeezing her right tit. Yep, perky.

“Deal.” She practically kissed the word at him. “Let me just get something from the back.”

Dale hiked up her skirt as she fished around in the backseat. He was eager to get his fingers between her legs and start working his magic before she backed out. 

“Eww!” He cringed and jerked his hand away as his index finger grazed a huge, wet scab midway up her thigh. He gagged and blinked in horror. With every inch he hitched her skirt higher, he exposed more scars, cuts, and open sores. “What the hell happened to you?!”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head, flipping the hair back away from her face and revealing a _hole_ in her cheek that went all the way down to the bone. Something in the seat behind Dale rattled and clanged like...like his dad’s toolbox. “I just need to eat.”

Dale hissed and cowered back in his seat. “Bitch, eatin’ ain’t gonna fix that.”

He fumbled for the door handle. 

Holy fuck, there was no door handle! 

“Wanna bet?” She grinned and raised her hand. Moonlight glinted off a– 

Dale’s jaw dropped.

–a hammer. 

He blinked in disbelief as it hurtled toward the side of his head.

The pain was instant and debilitating. All of Dale’s senses exploded in a crescendo of light and heat and ringing. Then the detached sensation from the accident was back with a vengeance. It was like Dale wasn’t even in the car anymore. His eyes wouldn’t work, and the ringing wouldn’t stop, and he was at once flooded with agony yet numb all over.

There was something jagged and wet in his hands. He ran his fingers over it. It was heavy and...and concave. The outside was soft.

His vision flickered back, blurry but...

No...that... _no_...

He was holding a piece of his own skull.

* * *

Theo slammed the sledgehammer down, splintering chunks of concrete into the air.

The stench of death assaulted his nostrils as he broke through the burial vault, even with the wooden casket beneath it still intact. The regular odor of corpse rot was nothing new to Theo, but the embalming chemicals that had been used to preserve the body were. They added an unnatural burn that stung the back of his throat and made his eyes water.

The body was buried too far down for Theo to stand on the ground while he worked, so he squatted on the edge of the burial vault and swung his sledgehammer over his head, steadily making the concrete hole bigger and exposing more of the casket underneath. 

His mind wandered as he worked, adrift in childhood memories of burying corpses in shallow graves in the woods as the Dread Doctors looked on, directing him. It wasn’t always a unidirectional process. Occasionally he helped freshly risen chimeras dig themselves back out, particularly the ones without claws. Although it was seldom a good sign if they couldn’t unearth themselves. None of the other chimeras before Beacon Hills had been a success, but Theo had usually wound up reburying the weak, clawless ones sooner rather than later. Except of course in Beacon Hills where Parrish had taken care of second round body disposal as the resident hellhound. That convenience had in part helped Theo find the time to pursue his own agenda in earnest.

He contemplated the chimera pack he had created and briefly led as he dug himself a narrow tract around the inner perimeter of the grave where he could stand once it became necessary to destroy the edges of the burial vault completely in order to open the casket.

Another resurrection. Better this time? 

Hayden and Corey flitted through Theo’s mind’s eye as he jumped and snagged the crowbar he had left protruding over the edge of the grave.

No, not better. It would have been delusional to pretend otherwise. They were fully alive. This...this would be different.

He wedged the crowbar under the lip of the casket’s lid.

 _I'm not like the others._ The words caressed Theo’s ears the way fingers had caressed his face. _I can't take your pain._

Theo swallowed, torn between fighting the memory and embracing it. The latter won out as he recalled the trust in Tracy’s eyes. 

No one had looked at Theo like that in years. No one. And– 

“I know. It's okay. You can do something else for me,” Theo whispered, the phantom sensation of her skin beneath his fingers warmed his hands even as he wrapped them tight around the cold metal crowbar. “You can give me your power.”

With a single heave Theo threw the lid of the casket open. 

It was too late to bring her back, or Josh, or Tara, or any of the many other lives he had taken but– 

Theo clenched his jaw and held his breath as he forced his gaze to the decaying form rotting a few inches away.

Since that moment in his lair a year prior, no one had looked at Theo with such complete trust as Tracy had seconds before he murdered her and stole her power. 

But someone had come close. Someone had looked at Theo with almost as much trust. Someone had brought Theo back from hell and saved him from the endless loop of torture and torment Tara had inflicted upon him.

And Liam missed Brett.

“C’mon,” Theo whispered, smiling at the two-week old corpse as he unfolded the tarp. “Let’s get you fixed up.”

* * *

Nolan turned off his car and slumped against the steering wheel. Maybe he should sleep out here tonight. He didn’t like sleeping in an empty house anyway. Sleeping in an empty car might better.

He might have dozed off for a little while, but then he got cold and he had to pee. Empty house it was.

He swatted at the door handle until it surrendered and opened. Standing wasn’t easy, but he managed it and even got his car door closed.

As he stumbled up the driveway an uneasy feeling twisted in his stomach. _Guilt._ Nolan had promised his sister he wouldn’t drink and drive when she had bought him the Blue Beast. He hadn’t meant to, not really. He had simply driven somewhere and gotten drunk. The getting home part hadn’t been factored in either way. 

He rubbed his head and frowned into the distance at his blurry front door. His driveway was much too long. If Dad came home again he’d ask about having it shortened.

He gasped and clutched his stomach. 

_Not guilt! Not guilt!_

Nolan dropped to his knees and threw up in the grass next to the pavement. 

It helped clear his head but a fresh round of chills accompanied the clarity. He got up and hurried inside, dropping his keys on the floor as he missed the rack. Whatever. He shrugged off his jacket and left it laying beside the keys. Now he wouldn’t forget either of them when he went to school in the morning. 

He trudged to his room and peeled his shirt over his head. As he wiped his mouth with it, he pondered what to do about what he had seen. He should probably forget it, pretend it never happened. But...

He dug his phone out of the pocket of his jeans and pulled up Liam’s name in his contacts.

“Hello?”

“You told me.” Nolan slumped on the foot of his bed and stared at his shoes.

“Nolan? I told you what?”

“To let you know.” Nolan took a long breath, focused on pronouncing each word carefully so Liam wouldn’t realize he’d been drinking. “If I saw. Anything strange. In town.”

“Why are you talking so slow?” Liam asked. “Are you okay?”

“No.” He let out a shaky half-sob and ran his free hand through his dirty, matted hair. 

“What happened?” Liam’s had voice softened. He didn’t sound like a terrifying werewolf at all.

Nolan wanted to tell him, wanted to explain that Gabe had been his only real friend, that after the debacle with the hunters and the Anuk-Ite no one else wanted anything to do with him, that Liam and Coach were the only people at school who didn’t treat him like a monster, that his dad didn’t really live at home anymore, and his sister was away at college, and his therapist didn’t know about the supernatural...that sometimes Nolan wished he could trade places with Gabe.

“Nolan, what happened?” 

Now there was something in Liam’s tone that Nolan couldn’t identify. 

_Concern?_

Yeah, right. Like Liam gave a shit about him after everything he had done to him. It was probably irritation that Nolan was wasting his time. 

“Theo...” Nolan shivered. There was something off about Theo. He wasn’t like Liam and the others in his pack. He seemed calm and collected, but there was a darkness behind his eyes that– 

“Theo what, Nolan? What did Theo do?”

Nolan trucked his heel against the edge of the mattress and hugged his knee to his chest as he fumbled with his shoelaces. “Maybe you already know this or maybe it’s not what I’m thinking–”

“What the fuck is it?!”

“Theo was at the cemetery with a shovel, and like, other tools. I think he was gonna rob a grave.”

Nolan hung up before Liam could respond and silenced his phone when he tried to call back.

He stripped out of the rest of his clothes. He needed a shower...and to believe Liam wasn’t going to yell at him and call him a liar for accusing his friend of something so horrible.

He would probably never speak to Nolan again.

* * *

“This is a veterinary clinic.” 

“An astute observation, Taylor.” Monroe sighed and curled her fingers around the car door handle. “Come along. Help Valdés with Davis.”

“But are we in the right place?” 

She ignored him and climbed out of the SUV.

“Open the door. We’ll take him out on your side,” Valdés instructed.

Monroe drew the jacket more tightly around her shoulders and marched to the front door of the clinic. It was locked. She rapped on the glass.

“I-I think they’re closed,” Taylor said, the parking lot gravel crunching as they dragged Davis forward. “Maybe we should take him to the ER.”

“We didn't drive all this way to go to a regular ER.” Monroe knocked harder. “I know you’re in there, Doctor. Let us in or we’ll just have to smash the glass.”

Monroe didn’t know if Deaton was inside or not. It was merely a gamble. But if she was wrong, they _would_ smash their way in. This seemed like the best place to search for medical supplies that might actually be of use against a supernatural bite.

“Shoot the door.”

“Steady now.” Valdés tapped Davis’ wrist and braced her shoulder under his arm as she reached for the gun holstered on her hip. 

“That won’t be necessary,” a muffled voice called through the door as the lock rattled.

“Good evening, Doctor.” Monroe gave the man a predatory smile as he appeared in the doorway.

“I fear it won’t be.” Deaton stepped back to make room for them to enter. Darkness shrouded the waiting room, but warm golden light spilled from the open door of the druid’s office behind the counter. “Why are you here?”

Monroe didn’t answer, just swept a hand toward Davis as he slumped between Taylor and Valdés. He minutely raised his bandaged, bloodied arm from where it hung over Taylor’s chest.

“I see.” Deaton frowned and his eyes shifted toward his exam room, but he made no move to step aside or lead them there.

Monroe crowded close and lowered her voice. “This is what you do, Doctor. Heal those who are injured in supernatural conflicts. Maintain the balance.”

“And you’re a school councilor tasked with providing positive guidance to the next generation.” Deaton smiled and tilted his head. “How’s that going?”

“Wonderfully,” Monroe answered with a smile of her own. “Will you help willingly or...?”

Deaton’s lips twitched and his eyes narrowed, but he turned and strode to the exam room. “Bring him in.” He reached around the wall and flicked on the light. “What were you hunting? What did this?”

“Wendigos.”

* * *

“Are you sure you can’t stay over?” Corey whispered, nuzzling his chin against the top of Mason’s head. They were cuddled up on Corey’s couch, not quite watching the _Sabrina_ reboot on Netflix. Corey was warm and comfortable in his pajamas, curled snuggly behind Mason’s back with his hand slid under Mason’s shirt so he could clutch his bare chest.

“I want to.” Mason squeezed Corey’s leg between his thighs. “But it’s a school night.”

Since Mason couldn’t see it, Corey let the pout form on his face. It wasn’t fair. Mason should have been wearing pajamas too, _Corey’s_ pajamas, not stupid, heavy going-home clothes. 

“How much longer do we have?”

Mason chuckled and stroked Corey’s hand through his shirt. “Maybe ten minutes.”

Corey opened his mouth to make a last ditch effort to convince him, but the unwelcome coo of his mother’s voice and the creaking of footsteps on the porch steps outside stopped him.

“–rub your back and make you a nice blueberry tea.”

Mason stiffened and raised his head. “Your parents are home?”

“I guess...” Corey was as surprised as his boyfriend. They never came home this early when they went out.

Keys rattled and the lock groaned – along with Corey and Mason as they untangled themselves and sat up.

“I couldn’t get through this crisis without you, Sansan,” Corey’s father murmured, wrapping his arms around Corey’s mother and pulling her in for a kiss as they stood in the open doorway.

“Ooh Caycay,” Corey’s mother panted into the man’s mouth as she climbed into his arms and straddled his waist. 

“You’re not alone!” Corey banged on the coffee table and looked away as his father’s hand drifted up the back of his mother’s blouse.

They broke apart, scowling.

“Dammit, what are you doing here?” Corey’s father’s voice carried more disapproval than usual.

Corey folded his arms. “I live here.” 

“Isn’t it about time you two got a place of your own?” he asked, glowering at Corey and Mason as Corey’s mother unwrapped herself from his body and shut the door.

“No it isn’t,” Corey answered, glaring back at the man but leaning his head against Mason’s hand when he squeezed his shoulder. “Because we’re in high school.”

Corey’s mother sighed and waved the back of her hand at them in a shooing gesture. “You boys go play in your room.” 

“Again, we’re in _high school._ ”

“Then go play big boy games. Just leave us alone.” She perched on the arm of the couch and laced her fingers with Corey’s father, tugging him close. “Your poor father’s had a terrible night. We had to drive all the way to Gaunt Bluffs and back. His mother is in the hospital.”

“ _What?!_ ” Corey jumped to his feet, his blood running cold.

“Oh yeah, your nana’s in the hospital,” she muttered at Corey before turning sympathetic eyes on Corey’s father and kissing his knuckles. “Don’t worry, sweetie, she’ll be okay.”

“What happened?” Corey whispered, his throat closing. 

“Ssshhh.” She raised a finger to her lips. “We’re not talking about it.”

Mason was on his feet too, holding Corey tight from behind and easing just a bit of the ache in his chest. “Sandra, please tell us what happened? Corey deserves to know.” 

“Uhm.” She gave Corey’s father a questioning look.

“It was a...” Corey’s father cleared his throat. “An animal attack.”

“Oh god.” Corey covered his face with his hands. “Where was Nana when it happened?”

“Church,” his father answered.

“Church?” Mason guided Corey back down onto the couch. “Wild animals attacked her _in a church?_ ”

Mason was right. That was strange. Corey raised his head and looked between his parents as he tried to process the information.

“Yes, the doors were open to welcome everyone in and-and a pack of feral dogs took advantage of that,” Corey’s mother said, nodding at Corey’s father.

“That's right. Feral dogs.” He wrapped an arm around Corey’s mother and kissed the side of her head. “Vicious beasts. Mom's lucky to be alive. They killed several people in the congregation.”

“Oh god.” Corey buried his face against Mason’s chest, struggling not to break down in front of his parents.

Mason rubbed Corey’s back and nuzzled the top of his head. “That’s…odd behavior for feral dogs,” 

“Look kid, for all I know those damn dogs were militant atheists with an axe to grind against religious folks. I wasn't there!”

“Shush now, Mason, You're upsetting Caleb,” Corey's mother chided.

Corey wanted to defend his boyfriend, but he couldn't get the image of his Nana being mauled by dogs out of his mind.

* * *

With a final grunt, Theo hefted Brett’s corpse onto the surgical table he had prepared in the Dread Doctors’ abandoned underground lab. The table had been used for the chimera experiments and featured, among other things, walled sides and a drain, making it a sort of trough. 

Once the body was in place, Theo folded his arms across the raised metal wall and lowered his head in exhaustion, by now completely desensitized to the burn of embalming chemicals a few inches from his face. 

After a moment’s rest it was time to unwrap the tarp. Theo hissed through his teeth and fought back an involuntary gag that even his abundant experience around dead bodies couldn’t fully suppress. Carrying Brett’s corpse through the tunnel system hadn’t been easy, but the trip down had been harder on Brett. He was firmly in the skin slippage phase of decomposition and the putrefied flesh of his face had pooled around his chin and the sides of his head. His ears looked ready to come off, and his cheekbones were about to get a hell of a lot more prominent.

Theo donned a pair of thick surgical gloves and set to work cutting apart Brett’s clothes and peeling them off him. Everything was sticky and gooey, except where it was runny and slimy. The pieces of fabric clung stubbornly to Brett’s body and the table, and by the time Theo was done removing all of Brett’s clothes, he had also removed virtually all of his top layer of skin and many of his soft, fleshy bits. 

“Oh, bet you’re gonna want this back,” Theo mumbled as he removed what was probably Brett’s favorite soft fleshy bit from the heap of clothes about to go in the incinerator.

He placed it back between Brett’s legs. Supposedly the zombification process would restore everything, but he was sure Brett wouldn’t want him to take any chances. 

_Hmm._

Theo tilted his head and eyed it speculatively. That didn’t look right. He flipped it around, unsure which end was which. Oh well, if he was wrong it would just make Brett a more interesting person.

He thumbed through the Pathologist’s notes while Brett’s clothes were burning. He frowned. This next part might be a little gross.

Theo tied on a surgical apron, slipped on a new pair of gloves, and covered his eyes with safety glasses before grabbing a scalpel from the trey of tools setup beside the table trough. He massaged the pile of sagging, gooey flesh beneath Brett’s jaw, working as much as he could back onto his face and exposing his neck. As carefully as he could, he made an incision in Brett’s carotid– 

Brown sludge sprayed across Theo’s face, coating his lips, nose, and glasses. Dammit, he had forgotten to put on a surgical mask!

The acrid burn was overwhelming as Theo vigorously wiped his face with the bottom of his apron. It was the highest concentration of embalming fluid Theo had been exposed to yet. Lucky there were some rotting bodily fluids in the mix to dilute it. 

Theo’s assaulted senses notwithstanding, it was a good sign there was still so much pressure in Brett’s veins. It meant his circulatory system was largely intact, which was the critical factor for whether or not the procedure would be a success.

Theo made a second incision in Brett’s other carotid artery, this time standing closer and taking the spray of brown sludge in the chest. He tipped the table back to let all the unwanted fluids drain.

While Brett was draining, Theo changed into a new set of gear. He was going through it quickly, but it wasn’t like the Surgeon was around to punish him for being wasteful.

Two nights earlier Theo had broken into the abandoned Dread Doctor lab in search of a place to stay and had ended up settling into the Pathologist’s old quarters since that room smelled the least of rat feces and mold. Curiosity and a blind hope that he could turn the space into something livable long-term had Theo rifling though the Pathologist’s cabinets and drawers. 

And that was when he found it: a glass vial filled with iridescent green goo. It was labeled ZOM6528, and it looked special enough that Theo consulted the small notebook tucked on the shelf alongside the vials. Even with Theo’s extensive, firsthand knowledge of parascientific research, what he had read shocked him. Back before Theo had gotten entangled with the Dread Doctors, the Pathologist had developed and tested a formula capable of turning corpses into zombies.

A little ray of warmth had glowed in Theo’s chest as he reflected on how upset Liam had been about Brett’s recent death. It glowed again as he tried to picture the look on Liam’s face when he showed him what he had done.

It was all so new and unfamiliar, caring about someone else’s happiness, but he did. Liam was his friend, his first ever true friend, and Theo wanted to make him happy. 

Theo cleared his throat and pushed the strange, sentimental feelings away. He couldn’t get too invested in the outcome of tonight’s experiment in case it failed. Based on the dates in the Pathologist’s notebook, the zombie serum concentrate was over a decade old, and while the dilution and formulation process to create enough of the substance to transfuse Brett’s body was relatively simple, there was no guarantee the serum was still viable. 

Regardless, Theo would know soon. It was time to add the catalyst and begin the transfusion.

* * *

Davis had two more seizures while Deaton tended to his wounds and bandaged his arm. When he was done, the doctor gave him an injection in the shoulder above his injuries and told him to rest.

“Thank you,” Davis murmured as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

Valdés started to speak, but Deaton raised a finger to his lips and caught Monroe’s eye. He glanced toward the door and she nodded, following him out into the waiting room to talk in private.

“Well, Doctor, will he live?”

“Oh he’ll live.” Deaton arched his brow. “One way or another.”

“What does that mean?”

“I gave him something that should decrease the severity of the seizures, but it’s only masking his symptoms, not countering the underlying infection.”

“Infection?”

“It will last about eight-to-twelve hours.”

“And then he’ll be a wendigo?” Monroe asked, shifting her posture to feel the reassuring weight of the gun on her hip.

“Possibly,” Deaton answered with a frown. “Or he’ll be fine, still fully human. But either way–”

“I’ll know in eight-to-twelve hours,” Monroe finished. 

Deaton nodded.

“So you hate wendigos, do you Doctor?” she asked with a muted laugh.

“Why do you say that?”

Monroe shrugged. “You’ve been a lot more accommodating since you learned that’s what we were up against, and you wouldn’t have shared that piece of information about his condition, knowing what I’ll do with it if he turns, unless you implicitly approved.”

“I assure you, Tamora, you do not have my approval.” Deaton smiled and folded his arms. “Wendigos aren’t subtle. You would have found out regardless. But if you can keep him from eating someone if he does turn...”

Monroe nodded. “And I assure you I will.”

Deaton raised his hand as she started to step around him to go back to the exam room. “One more thing.” 

“Yes?”

“Where did this attack happen?”

Monroe paused, weighing whether or not there was any risk in telling him or any benefit in not. There didn’t seem to be. “Gaunt Bluffs.”

Deaton breathed a sigh of relief and visibly relaxed. “I hoped you would say that.”

“Why?”

Monroe watched as Deaton seemed to engage in the same mental calculus before answering.

“Wendigos are drawn to Beacon Hills like all other supernatural creatures, but their hunger is insatiable. Werewolves and anything else vaguely human are at risk too. Thus hunters aren’t the only ones who hunt them.”

“I see.” Monroe smiled. “But now that Scott and most of his pack have left, and the Argents and the Hales are no more, there aren’t wolves or hunters left to protect this town from a full wendigo invasion.”

“Something like that.”

A shiver of delight ran down Monroe’s spine. “Don’t worry, Doctor, the hunters are returning to Beacon Hills.”

* * *

Liam was furious as he pried the manhole cover open with his claws and climbed into the sewer. The underground tunnel system was full of bad memories, but he was out of places to look for Theo. He wasn’t at the cemetery where Nolan had seen him, but it hadn’t taken Liam long to find the exhumed grave... _Brett’s_ grave. Liam was going to tear Theo apart when he found him. 

And it was Theo. At this point Liam would have rather believed that Nolan was responsible and covering his tracks, that maybe Monroe was back in town and using him – but that wasn’t the case. Theo’s scent was all over Brett’s grave.

Liam was almost as pissed at himself as he was at Theo. In spite of everything, he had started to trust that evil son of a bitch. Lesson learned. He was going to rip Theo’s face off.

He had thought about calling Mason and Corey, but he didn’t want to put them in danger, and he didn’t want them to stop him from doing whatever he needed to do to make Theo leave town once and for all.

It was a long shot that Theo was down here anyway. The disgustingly easy-to-follow trail had ended at the road by the cemetery where Theo must have parked. He was probably at home right now, working on whatever nefarious project involved Brett’s corpse, but Liam didn’t actually know where Theo lived. He always just seemed to appear out of nowhere in his truck. He wasn’t answering his phone either because _of course_ he wasn’t answering his phone. So all Liam could do was hope that he might have decided to go back to the old Dread Doctor lab. It made a certain amount of sense. It was somewhere Theo would find familiar, and it was probably better equipped than his house for whatever dark purposes Theo had. It was lucky Liam had been to the Dread Doctor lab before and knew where it was. Well...it was _something_ if not luck.

He froze and sniffed the noxious air as he reached a T-intersection in the tunnels. Crap, he was right. Both directions smelled like Brett’s corpse with hints of Theo. Liam took the path that led toward the lab. 

Ten minutes later he entered the Dread Doctor compound itself. He crept through the outer chamber toward the sound of Theo’s heartbeat. Theo was in the next room, the _surgical_ room. 

Liam blinked in disbelief as he peered through the open doorway. Theo sat atop a metal stool, engrossed in what appeared to be one of the Dread Doctors’ handwritten journals. That was strange enough, but a few feet away from him was a long, tub-like table filled with thick, bright green goo and hooked up to multiple pieces of equipment that Liam couldn’t identify. The goo was completely opaque, but rising from it like a pale, fleshy island was Brett’s face. 

“What the hell, Theo?!” Liam gasped, struggling for air. “How could you?”

“Liam!” Theo hopped off the stool and set the journal on top of it. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“You– You–” He pointed at Brett’s submerged body.

Theo sighed and shook his head. A smile of all things lit his face. “I wanted this to be a surprise.”

“Aaaahh!” Liam charged forward and grabbed Theo by the front of the shirt. He hurled him against the row of dingy metal storage cabinets that lined the wall. 

“Oww, fuck!” Theo rolled onto his hands and knees and looked up at Liam with wide eyes, blood running down the side of his face. “Not how I was expecting you to react.”

Liam growled and lunged to attack again, but Theo sprang up and slammed clawed hands into Liam’s chest, ripping through his jacket and knocking him away. Liam stumbled and banged his hip against the cabinets but didn’t fall.

“I thought you were different now!” Liam swiped at Theo’s face, but he dodged back. “I thought you had changed.”

Theo blocked Liam’s next strike with his forearm and landed a gut punch with his other hand. “Just let me explain.”

Liam feinted a right hook but delivered a left jab. 

Theo’s nose crunched and he staggered back. “Really? _Again?_ ” 

Liam pressed his advantage and backed Theo up against the wall with a series of quick strikes, slashing Theo’s arm every time he tried to block. 

Theo caught Liam’s next blow and tried to twist his arm and pivot around him, but Liam grabbed Theo’s shoulder and squared his stance, locking Theo in place against the wall and denying him the range of motion to counter Liam’s hold. 

“I want you out of Beacon Hills by sunup.” Liam dug his claws in and growled. “Don’t ever come back!”

Theo’s glowing golden eyes cooled back to hazel and his fangs retracted. He looked hurt, but Liam knew better than to believe it. “Liam...”

“I mean it.” Liam let his own eyes cool just long enough to flare them for emphasis. “I better never see you again, Theo.”

“Liam.” Theo’s expression and tone changed, and he motioned with his chin to something over Liam’s shoulder. “Look.”

He scoffed. As if he was going to fall for that.

“Liam?” 

The voice sent chills down Liam’s spine. He released Theo and spun around.

Brett was sitting up on the table, dripping with green slime and rubbing his smooth, unblemished chest where the poisoned arrow had pierced it. 

“Where am I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn’t able to nail down a firm timeline on how long it was between Brett’s death and the end of season 6B. For the sake of the story I assumed about a week, and it was likewise about a week between the end of the season and the start of this story – thus approximately two weeks since Brett died, but if anyone has a better timeline/more info, I’d love to hear it!
> 
> Also regarding the state of Brett’s body, I researched decomposition rates as thoroughly as I could, but basically it depends quite a bit on individual factors and environmental conditions, as well as whether or not the body was embalmed, which again for the sake of the story I assumed it was. But if anyone wants to make a case that Brett should either be more or less decomposed, I’d definitely be interested. 
> 
> Regarding the timeline of the story as a whole, I know Teen Wolf was a few years behind present time, and I believe the story wrapped up in what was 2013 to the characters – but I’m just not doing that and never do for my Teen Wolf stories. Instead it’s early November 2018 in the story, or exactly present time. (And if the story is still on-going next year, which it likely will be, we’ll bump it forward another year.)
> 
> Finally, Wikipedia tells me that “Windigoag is a plural form [of wendigo] (also spelled Windegoag, Wiindigooag, or Windikouk)” but I’m going with simply wendigos because I feel like it’s more intuitive and a bit less...obtrusive, and I want it to blend in more than I want it to be strictly accurate.
> 
> Anyway, general story notes aside, I’m working on this project for NaNoWriMo 2018 in which writers attempt to write 50K words in November, so I’m hoping to hit that target and put out roughly 5-8 chapters within the next month. That definitely won’t be nearly the entire story though. I’m anticipating that this will be quite a long one with maybe 200K words total. After NaNoWriMo ends my goal will be to post a new chapter roughly every 2-4 weeks.
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	2. A Life in Shambles

Headlights. Lori’s hand gripping his. Everything hurt. Wolfsbane. Razor blades in his lungs. Ice shards in his veins. Headlights. Brett gasped for air. Chest on fire. Tight. Broken. Headlights. Can’t run. Too weak. Barely stand. Headlights. Lori. Lori was going to get hit too. New pain in Brett’s stomach. Cold dread. Certainty. They wouldn’t survive the impact. Headlights.

Brett’s eyes shot open – but he couldn’t see. 

Fuck it was cold. And bright. And wet. 

Dark spots flickered in a sea of blinding light. 

He had never been this cold before. It was deeper than bone-deep. The coldness seemed to come from inside out. 

The dark spots coalesced into shapes. Lights. _Not_ headlights, the outline of a light fixture.

He squinted and turned his head to– 

Thick fluid rushed into his mouth. He choked and gagged, struggling to sit up. Everything was heavy. And cold. And bright. But shapes were materializing. He wasn’t outside. He was in a room. Why was this room so damn bright and cold?

Sounds popped and murmured in his ears, sending cold dread down his cold spine. He had been deaf a moment before and hadn’t noticed. But there wasn’t much to hear. This room was quiet, too quiet. He couldn’t hear the electricity in the walls or the water in the pipes. But there was something. Grunting. Voices. Shout– _shouting?_ The tone read as shouting, but the volume didn’t. 

He turned his head, slow and heavy – must have still had wolfsbane in his system. 

Blurry, human-sized shapes were colliding, fighting. They slowly resolved into shadows and light, color and texture.

“Liam?”

Brett rubbed his chest. It didn’t hurt anymore. It felt numb, and so fucking cold.

“Where am I?”

Liam was slow to react too, blinking at him with his mouth hanging open. Maybe it was the room. Maybe it was designed to mess with werewolves.

The guy Liam was fighting with... _Theo._ He had betrayed Liam’s pack once. Had he done it again? Was he doing experiments on them? Was that why Brett was cold and heavy with dulled senses?

Blood covered the lower half of the rogue chimera’s face and dripped from his chin. Liam seemed to be winning this fight. Maybe he would get them out of here. Brett wanted to back him up, but he was heavy and dazed as he tried to climb out of the...tub? He gaped at the iridescent green goo in which he sat. Naked.

“–still.”

Liam and Theo stepped closer and Brett panicked. This whole situation was very wrong. He had to get out of this vulnerable position and defend himself. He grabbed the side of the shallow tub and flopped and flailed as he hoisted himself over the edge. It should have been easy to spring down and land on his feet, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate and he tumbled to the concrete floor.

It hurt much less than it should have thanks to the full-bodied numbness that consumed him.

He climbed to his hands and knees and raised his head, ignoring the thick green slime that dripped off his chest and trickled down his thighs to the floor beneath. Liam and Theo were a couple feet away, no longer fighting, instead standing with their palms out toward Brett like he was an animal they were trying not to spook.

The shift in dynamic between them was unnerving. Was Liam on his side or Theo’s? Or was there some other mutual threat Brett hadn’t yet discovered. Picking up their scents and interpreting their emotional markers should have been automatic and subconscious, but that crucial sensory feedback was absent. He sniffed. Nothing.

 _Hunters._ Brett was being hunted when he was almost hit by that truck. Oh god, where was Lori?

Liam and Theo were talking to him, but their voices were so quiet they might as well have been three rooms away. They were audible, but Brett’s head spun with too much fear and anxiety to process the words. He needed to calm down, needed to center himself. But he-he couldn’t.

Theo took another step and a surge of instinct coursed through Brett. His hand shot out with a measure of its proper reflexes and wrapped around the metal leg of some kind of stand. He flung it at Theo and Liam, sending medical implements flying through the air but somehow _not_ clattering to the floor. 

He didn’t look back to find out why. He was already running in a crouch around the side of the table, looking for a way out. 

_There,_ an open doorway only a few feet away. He darted through it and slammed the heavy steel door behind him.

Well he thought he slammed it, but it sealed with a soft clang instead. Something else was off. The door wasn’t cold. The stand hadn’t been either. It was like someone had been rubbing their hands across the metal, warming it up before Brett touched it.

The door cracked open a smidge beneath Brett’s hands. 

“Let me in.” Liam’s voice was wrong, like a low quality recording with much of the pitch and resonance missing. “Brett?”

Brett grunted and shoved the door shut. This time he slid the bolt into place after it. 

What the fuck had happened and when would it wear off?!

* * *

“Brett?!” Liam twisted the cold metal handle and heaved his shoulder against the door, but it was no use.

He took a deep breath, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Was he hallucinating? 

Theo grumbled as he tidied up the room, righting the medical stand and replacing the tray on top. His nose had stopped bleeding, but his face was still caked in blood. 

Liam stepped into his path, blocking him as he moved to retrieve a scalpel from the floor. “What did you do?”

“I brought your friend back to life.” Theo glared at him and folded his arms. “Well...back.”

Liam looked between Theo and the door Brett had closed himself behind. “Is-is he a chimera now?”

“What?” Theo’s face scrunched, cracking the blood around his nose and mouth. “Oh. No, I can’t make chimeras. It requires actual surgery and...parts I don’t have. Anyway, a dead body can’t be turned into a chimera. I could only bring Tracy, Corey and the others back because they were _already_ chimeras when they died, and only with the aid of a special chemical compound the Dread Doctors invented that I don’t think still exists.”

“So Brett is...?”

Theo shrugged and grinned, the expression macabre due to the blood dappled across his face. “A zombie.”

Liam flinched. “A zom–a _zombie?_ ”

Theo nodded.

Liam’s blood ran cold, and he didn’t react as Theo brushed past him and resumed picking up the scattered medical tools. Liam’s eyes drifted to the viscous green goo that filled the table-trough, then to the puddles and footprints Brett had tracked through the room. “Why did you do this?”

Theo turned from organizing the tools on the tray. His eyebrows drew together and even with the blood on his face, his expression was uncharacteristically open. “I thought...”

“Yeah?” Liam nodded and stepped closer. Maybe Theo had a good reason for once.

“–that it might be useful having a zombie,” he finished, his face hardening.

Rage shot through Liam’s body and seized control of his arm. He punched Theo in the face, re-breaking his nose. 

That asshole wanted to make Brett his zombie slave.

* * *

_Rural Maine_

Mimi sat in her car with the heater cranked up and the seat popped back. Dale’s cracked open skull rested comfortably in her lap, his face between her legs just like he would have wanted as she swiped through the news app on his phone looking for local coverage. The phone’s battery had been dead when she found the device in his pocket, but it was now plugged into one of the many car chargers she had accumulated for just such occasions. 

She dipped her hand into the base of his mostly empty cranium and wiggled her fingers around, scrambling the last big chunk of brain and sopping up as much of the tangy blood and savory cerebrospinal fluid as she could before scooping it into her mouth. The giddy rush that accompanied a feeding, especially after such a prolonged fast, was undermined by an article that had been published that day in the _Bangor Gazette._

> **Search Intensifies for Suspected Highway Serial Killer**  
>  _By Harris Leevy, November 8th, 2018_
> 
> Authorities are cautioning motorists to remain vigilant when driving along remote stretches of highway throughout the Maine Highlands. Officers Justin Bell and Octavian Hillard with the Maine State Police Department were conducting routine patrols on Halloween night, Wednesday, October 31st, when they came upon two vehicles parked by the side of the road with their hazard lights flashing. When the officers stopped to render aid, the lead vehicle, described as a mid-size black sedan, accelerated away from the scene, leaving behind what Officer Hillard is quoted as calling, “a real life horror show.” Sixty-seven-year-old George Wheeler lay crumpled on the highway’s shoulder with his skull smashed in.
> 
> Wheeler’s murder is believed to be connected to a string of disappearances involving at least eight missing persons in the last three months, all of whom are thought to have been traveling rural highways in the Maine Highlands region at the time they went missing. At least two other confirmed homicides are believed to be the work of the serial killer, dubbed by local reporters as the Highway Headhunter. In September the remains of thirty-two-year-old Tiffany Allen were discovered in a car registered to Allen that had been driven into a ditch along SR 221. Allen’s head had been removed by her killer and has yet to be recovered. A month later in early October, the body of nineteen-year-old Devin Jones was found sprawled across a quiet stretch of SR 11. Like Allen, Jones’ skull was missing.
> 
> The Federal Bureau of Investigation and the Maine State Police Department are working with county and municipal law enforcement agencies to coordinate patrols and develop a profile of the Highway Headhunter. In the meantime, motorists are urged to avoid stopping to provide direct assistance to disabled vehicles or hitchhikers. Instead, please report these sightings to authorities who will follow up and provide any necessary assistance. Drivers in the Maine Highlands region are advised to travel with a companion whenever possible and to ensure that they have ample fuel and well-maintained vehicles before beginning any trip through the area.  
> 

  


Mimi grunted and powered off the device. She needed to drive away soon before the highway patrols spotted her or found the idiot teenager’s crashed car.

She tilted the rear view mirror and studied her tingling face. Her cheeks and the spaces under her eyes were filling out and firming up. The gap over her right cheekbone had closed, covered over by itchy, throbbing pink skin. She lifted the hem of her skirt, pleased to find her thighs smooth and supple. Her fingers and knuckles, though sticky with blood, had also healed and were once again soft and youthful. 

The tingling, throbbing itch was most intense inside her chest and abdomen, where her organs were being restored after shutting down and beginning to rot. It felt awful and amazing at the same time. The violent spasms and trembling waves of relief and pleasure that followed were too distracting for Mimi to risk driving. She hadn’t meant to eat her meal here by the side of the road, but hunger had overwhelmed her. 

Ever since the incident on Halloween night when she had almost been caught, Mimi had been lying low, hoping that by not feeding, media attention might die down and return to normal. She liked the little farmhouse she had been living in for the past few months and wanted to finish out the year there if possible. It had its own water well and tapped maple trees. The electricity had been cut off about a month and a half after she killed the family that had lived there, but that was fine. There was a wood burning furnace to keep her warm and she could check the news like she had tonight on the phones of her victims.

It wasn’t worth it, however, if she had to do this to her body again. She had to abandon her kill on Halloween night without even a taste in order to avoid capture. She already had him in her car, but by throwing him out on the side of the road, she ensured the police were distracted long enough for her to make her escape. Until tonight it had been almost two weeks since she had fed.

She licked the delicious goo off her lips and frowned at the teenager’s empty skull. She was tempted to crack apart the rest so she could lick out all the juices or pour them into her mouth. Her car was already a blood spattered mess anyway, but she didn’t want to take the time to– 

Mimi gasped and clutched her head as a blinding light enveloped her field of vision. Dark spots swirled and melded, gradually resolving into the image of two guys fighting – with _claws_ and glowing eyes. 

_Liam?_ The name formed in Mimi’s mouth unbidden. _Where am I?_

Before she could get an answer, everything went black and Mimi was left thrashing in her seat. The glowing outline of her steering wheel cut through the darkness and the rest of the car slowly reformed around her.

“Those bastards made another zombie.”

* * *

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

Brett pressed his forehead against his arm and leaned against the door. He had to find a way out. He had to find Lori and they had to find somewhere safe to hide until Satomi and their pack got home. They were on a spiritual retreat all week and wouldn’t be back until Sunday afternoon. Lori had an American History paper due and Brett didn’t want to miss lacrosse practice, so they had stayed in Beacon Hills. That had turned out to be a very bad decision. What Brett wouldn’t give for him and his sister to be meditating on a sunbathed hillside right now.

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

He took a breath and closed his eyes. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe he should go back out there and calmly ask Liam if he knows where Lori is. 

He shivered and fought back a sob. He wasn’t overreacting. Something was very wrong with his body and Theo had to be behind it. Theo or Theo _and_ Liam. 

No. No, Liam had risked his life to get Brett out of the tunnels and up to safety. Except...except the headlights – how had he and Lori survived that?

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

Brett opened his eyes and straightened up. One thing at a time. 

Crap, the room he was in only had the one exit. That walls were lined with shelves and cabinets with a small sink and toilet in one corner, a broken desk against the back wall, and a sleeping bag and blankets piled in the far corner. 

Brett stooped to examine the sleeping bag. He held the padded, navy blue cloth right up to his nose and sniffed. _What the fuck?_ It barely had a scent. It smelled a little bit musty, but he couldn’t detect a personal body scent profile and had no way to identify who had been sleeping in it. But it didn’t matter whose it was. He was freezing. He wrapped himself up in the blankets, barely resisting the urge to climb inside the sleeping bag too. 

Most of the shelves in the room were filled with books, journals, vials, jars, and clay pots, but the shelves nearest the sleeping bag instead featured piles of neatly folded clothes and personal items including toothpaste and a toothbrush, face wash, shampoo, a razor and shaving cream, and deodorant. Brett couldn’t catch a personal scent on any of them either, but he was reasonably sure based on the clothes and the overall context that these were Theo’s things. 

Brett shambled across the room, frustrated by his stiff, uncoordinated muscles as he went to look at himself in the mirror over the sink. His hair was plastered to his head with a rim of green oozing out around his hairline and eyebrows. His face was also sheened in a thin layer of goop. It must have been irritating his eyes, even though they didn’t hurt, because the whites had a faint pinkish tinge to them. 

There was a bar of soap on the edge of the sink, so Brett washed his hands and arms and rinsed out his hair. Then he went back to the shelf and borrowed Theo’s face wash. Once the goop was gone, he was surprised by how pale he looked, but it made sense given how cold he felt. He’d get some color back once he warmed up. The blankets weren’t cutting it though, and they were now wet from all the goop, so after he finished cleaning up, he went through Theo’s clothes for something to wear. He settled on a thick, long sleeve black shirt, gray sweatpants, two pairs of socks, and a hooded denim jacket. The sweatpants were comically short on him, and the shirt showed a strip of his stomach whenever he lifted his arms, but he felt a lot better now that he was dry and dressed. 

He steeled himself and went back to the door. He didn’t think he could fight. His body was still slow and heavy and his senses dull, but he was calm now and he had to trust that Liam would look out for him.

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

He slid the bolt away and opened the door. 

Theo was sitting on a stool next to the table-tub thing Brett had woken up in. It was still filled with green slime. Liam was leaning against a row of cabinets along the back wall with his arms folded. They both looked at him with wide eyes and tense expressions.

“Brett, are you okay?”

Liam still sounded wrong, like a recording of himself with the volume turned all the way down. 

Brett thought he was calm. He thought he had himself under control. But a cold shiver ran down his back that left him trembling and scared. 

_The sun, the moon, and–_

“I don’t feel right.”

* * *

Corey was lost in childhood memories as he put the freshly laundered sheets on his bed. 

_Nice, tight corners so your little feet stay snug and toasty in the night._

Corey pulled the sheets tight and tucked them under the mattress.

_And you always catch a chill, dearheart, so let’s add an electric blanket._

He still had the one Nana had sent him home with all those years ago after a cold weekend in Gaunt Bluffs. He went to his closet and got it out. He never kept it on the bed when Mason was over because he got too hot. 

_Then we spread a silky-soft comforter across the top._ She had winked at him. _That’s to lock-in all the comfort._

Corey’s comforter wasn’t silky-soft; it was tattered and threadbare, but he spread it out all the same.

 _And that’s how you make a bed, my sweet angelboy._ He could still feel her arms cross over his chest from behind as she hunched and kissed the top of his head. _Your parents are going to be so proud of you when you show them._

They hadn’t been, but Nana was proud and that had meant more anyway.

Corey grabbed his phone off the nightstand and stepped out of his slippers. He knelt on the bed and tugged the chain to turn the overhead light off before shimmying under the covers. It was snug and toasty. The sheets were still hot from the dryer, and they felt wonderful on his cool chimera skin. Since turning, his body temperature always ran a little low. He hardly noticed it anymore, but it made cuddling with Mason or climbing into a warm bed like this – or ideally both – all the more amazing.

He sighed and let his head sink into the pillow as he pulled up Nana’s Facebook page on his phone. He scrolled through more than a decade of old pictures of them together. Corey was her only grandchild, but she took and posted enough pictures of him for ten grandchildren. She had documented everything from his first day of kindergarten to his first day of high school – both of which she had driven him to – and everything in between. There were birthdays, Christmases and other holidays, trips and special occasions, and pages and pages of snapshots from everyday life, all with sweet captions doting on him.

Corey sniffled and wiped his eyes. Nana was the only person in his family whom he was sure actually loved him and wanted him. His parents freely admitted he was an accident and a burden, and his Uncle Mitch and his more distant relatives barely even acknowledged he existed. He often thought about what his life might have been like if he had grown up with Nana instead. He used to spend weeks at a time at her house over the summer when school wasn’t in session. He even had his own room; it had been his father’s. His father had cool stuff, and sleeping in his old room, seeing pictures of him when he was a kid, and hearing Nana’s stories about him had made Corey feel closer to his father than he ever had while actually living with the man. Nana was probably viewing the past through rose colored glasses, but Corey wondered what happened to the guy with the huge collection of sci-fi books and nineties feel-good movies who used to host game nights for his friends on the weekend.

Guilt gnawed at Corey’s stomach as he realized the most recent picture Nana had of him was over two years old. Visits had dropped off sharply around the time he was in freshman year. Nana’s eyesight had gotten worse and Uncle Mitch made her quit driving. Corey’s parents certainly weren’t going to take him the forty miles to Gaunt Bluffs so he could see her. He doubted they would have done that even if they had been typical parents. They hated Gaunt Bluffs...But Corey couldn’t place all the blame on them. Like everything else in his life, it was up to him to handle it if he wanted to see her. His high school experience was anything but normal. Hell he had died at one point, and almost died at least a half dozen other times. But that was no excuse either. He’d had _some_ downtime, and he knew Mason would have driven him if he’d asked. Crap, Nana hadn’t even met Mason yet. Corey regularly talked to her on the phone and had told her all about him, but she and Mason were the best people in Corey’s life. He was ashamed of himself for not making it a point to introduce them.

Tomorrow. Mason had already promised to go with Corey to visit her in the hospital after school. 

Corey’s chest hurt and even the snug sheets couldn’t stop his foot from shaking. His parents hadn’t given him many details, and tomorrow afternoon seemed like forever away. What if...what if it was too late?

_NO!_

He held his breath and turned invisible to fight back the sobs that threatened to tear their way out of his throat. He was overreacting. She would be fine. She _had_ to be fine. He hadn’t even worked up the nerve to tell her he was a chimera yet. She couldn’t di– not find out something so important about him, something that made him so happy. The world was warm and shimmery while he was invisible. He couldn’t wait to share it with her and show her how beautiful everything was.

_It was an animal attack._

Corey released the breath he was holding but stayed invisible so he could look at a picture of Nana in the warm green light. 

_Feral dogs in a church._

He shook his head. Mason hadn’t said it outright, but he didn’t believe the explanation Corey’s parents had given them. Now that he’d had time to process the shock, neither did Corey.

He closed the Facebook app and Googled the Gaunt Bluff General Hospital. He had to find out the truth. He clicked on the number and called it. After navigating a brief phone tree, he was connected with someone.

“Patient information, this is Tasha. May I help you?”

“Hi Tasha, my name’s Cor–Caleb Bryant.” He cleared his throat and made his voice deeper. “Ahem, ‘scuse me. My mother, Adele Bryant, is a patient there, but I can’t remember what room she’s in. Can you look that up, please?”

“Yes sir, one moment.” The line was silent for a few seconds and then she was back. “Mrs. Bryant’s in room 304. Would you like to speak with one of the nurses on her floor?”

Corey hesitated. The nurse had probably spoken to his father in person and might realize Corey was impersonating him.

“Yes, please.”

But he had to try. It was the only way he would get any useful information.

“Third floor ICU. This is Donna.”

Corey flinched and his blood ran cold. _ICU?!_

“Donna this is Caleb Bryant. My mother’s on your floor...did we talk earlier? I was upset and I can’t remember if it was you I spoke with.”

“No, sir, I just came on about thirty minutes ago.”

_Whew._

“Are you checking on Mrs. Bryant?”

“Y-yes, I-I...” Corey’s voice trembled and he struggled to get the words out now that he was about to find out how bad it was. “Yes, ma’am.”

“She’s stable and her vital signs are improving, but she hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Oh, n-not at all? Not even for a few minutes?”

“I’m sorry.” Donna’s tone was sympathetic and kind. “But that’s not unusual for someone who...”

_Yes?_

“...went through what she did.”

_Aww dammit!_

“Especially at such an advanced age. Your mother’s a fighter, Mr. Bryant. Don’t give up on her.”

“Never,” Corey whispered, a tear spilling from his eye and rolling down the side of his nose.

“Dr. Nguyen is optimistic that she’ll wake up in the morning once the anesthesia is out of her system.”

_Anesthesia._

“So then the _surgery...?_ ”

“Looks like it was a success. We’ll know more in the morning, and we’ll call you tonight if anything changes.”

“Okay, thank you, Donna.”

“Try and get some rest, Mr. Bryant. We’ll take good care of her.”

* * *

“I don’t feel right.”

“I know you don’t.” Liam’s face filled with sympathy as he crossed the room and placed a tentative hand on Brett’s shoulder. 

There was something different about Liam, but Brett couldn’t put his finger on what, and it didn’t seem important right now. 

“I’m gonna explain everything, okay?”

Brett nodded, aware his voice would break if he tried to speak. Whatever Liam was going to explain was very bad.

Liam sucked his lips into his mouth and fidgeted. 

“Well?” Brett asked.

He squeezed Brett’s shoulder and pinched the hoodie. “Where’d you get the clothes?”

He was stalling. Brett didn’t need to catch his scent or hear his heartbeat to know that.

“Theo–”

“I keep a couple extra sets here just in case.” Theo stood and shot Brett a warning look over Liam’s shoulder. “In fact, I’m going to go change and get cleaned up too.” His lips and chin were still speckled with dried blood.

Liam’s only acknowledgment was a grunt. Theo’s frown deepened.

Brett shrugged at Theo as he stepped around them. He was obviously living down here and didn't want Liam to know for some reason. Whatever, it wasn't any of Brett's business.

“Where’s Lori?”

Liam’s eyes widened and his face dropped. 

“Liam, where is she?” Brett’s mind buzzed with anxiety, but he didn’t feel it in his chest and gut the way he should have. Whatever drugs were dulling his senses must have been suppressing that too. “Liam?!”

Liam guided Brett with a hand on his back to the stool Theo had been sitting on. “You better sit down.”

“I don’t wanna sit.” Brett dug in his feet and gripped Liam’s arm with werewolf strength. At least that was working. “Tell me.”

“What do you remember?”

“Fucking stop playing games and tell me where she is!” Brett’s heart should have been pounding. He was terrified. If Lori was okay wouldn’t Liam have just said that already? No. No, she had to be okay. She had to be. He must have been stalling for another reason. Maybe– 

“You died.” Liam looked Brett in the eye, clinging to his arm as tightly as Brett gripped his. “The SUV...you didn’t survive.”

Brett blinked at him and collapsed onto the stool, still clutching Liam’s arm. “So...they restarted my heart and...”

Liam shook his head, anguish clouding his features.

“But I’m here. I’m alive.”

Liam shook his head again and looked at the floor. “Not...exactly...alive.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Of course he was alive. He sure as fuck wasn’t a ghost.

Liam looked up and gripped Brett’s other arm too, holding him still. “You’re a zombie.”

“WHAT?!”

“I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

“Are you...lying to me?” 

It was the only explanation, and it was possible right now because Brett couldn’t hear Liam’s heartbeat. Maybe this was some kind of really fucked up prank that Liam and Theo were pulling, revenge for when Brett used to mess with Liam at Devenford.

“Brett, no.” Liam caught Brett’s gaze and held it. He didn’t look like someone out for revenge. His soft blue eyes were full of tortured emotion and regret. “You’re a zombie.”

He wasn’t lying...and he was the only thing that kept Brett from falling off the stool as his whole body went slack in rebellion of the idea.

“I don’t feel...” 

_Like a zombie,_ he wanted to say, but the pieces clicked into place. His dulled senses, his low body temperature, his slow, fucking _shambling_ movement. 

“How?”

“Theo.” Liam spat the name and shot a glare at the open doorway. “He’s like an evil, mad scientist basically.”

Brett stared at the dirty concrete floor. Liam didn’t say anything, just shifted his hand to Brett’s shoulder and left it there.

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

He glanced up at Liam and it finally registered what was different. The last time Brett had seen him, what felt like barely an hour ago in the tunnels, his hair had been long. Now it was trimmed short around the sides and back and longer in the front like he had kept it the year before. That meant this wasn’t the same night. Brett had been _dead_ long enough for Liam to get a haircut. 

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

_The sun, the–_

“Where’s Lori?”

* * *

Nolan was sweaty, his stomach hurt, and his head pounded. But he didn’t open his eyes. If he pretended he was still asleep, it might happen. He was still a little drunk after all. That should help, right? He just had to wait and he’d pass out again in no time.

Images swirled behind his eyes and he tried to lean into them, to let them take him, grisly though they were.

Trails of blood on the hospital floor. Gabe’s face contorted in agony. The light in his eyes dimming as Theo eased his pain. 

Sounds. Gunfire. Monroe’s voice calling for Gabe and Liam to be killed. 

_Pop, pop, pop._

The back of the gunman’s head as Nolan slammed the fire extinguisher into it. 

Too late. 

Nolan was slow and now Gabe was crawling on his stomach across the hospital’s shiny white floor, smudging it with streaks of Nolan’s failure. 

The hospital spun and twisted, and Nolan was outside, trapped against a wall of rock as Liam snarled in his face. A monster. All fangs and glowing eyes. He reared back and Nolan _knew_ he was going to die. Liam was going to crush his head. Or tear his throat open. Or– 

The wall beside Nolan’s head exploded and a gust of air swept across his ear as Liam’s fist pounded the rock beside it. Liam was shaking, trying to hold himself back. Not a monster? Didn’t matter, monster or not he was going to succumb to instinct and kill Nolan. No way was he getting out of this alive.

_Run._

Theo’s smirking face. Who was the monster?

_Leave._

Who was the monster? Cut their hands and if they heal…

_Get rid of it._

_That's Edgar. He's in my trig class._

_Isn't human._

_Get rid of it._

_How?_

_Get rid of it._

_How?_

Nolan shook as a darkness crept over Gabe's face and he crouched beside the helpless werecoyote. 

_Get rid of it._

_How?_

“That’s Edgar!” Nolan screamed and sat up as Gabe’s hands wrapped around Edgar’s neck.

The images wouldn’t go away. The terror in Edgar’s eyes. His feet kicking and scraping the ground, fast at first, frantic, and then– 

Nolan threw up all over his bed. Mushy chunks splatted his fingers and the sweat dripped off his brow and down the side of his face. 

Another violent heave, and this time he soaked his lap in sticky, hot vomit. 

His throat burned and his eyes watered. He coughed and gagged as a final wave shot up his nose, singing his airways and leaving him huffing and blowing to expel the lumps through his nostrils so he could breathe.

He panted and wiped his face with the back of his arm. His eyes were still watering. Just watering.

Edgar’s feet went still, and Gabe’s hands didn’t shake when he let go. Nolan hadn’t said a word or made a move while it was happening.

His eyes kept watering.

“He was in my trig class.”

* * *

“Where’s Lori?”

Liam stepped closer and his hand slid from Brett’s shoulder to his back. He shook his head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brett knocked Liam’s hand away. “Tell me where she is.”

“She was...with you.”

“And now?” His voice shook. The beginning of the ache he had been expecting for the entire conversation finally formed in the pit of his stomach. 

“Brett...”

“Where is she now, Liam?” He clenched his fists and glared at Liam, daring him to say– 

“I’m sorry.” 

He gasped as the world shattered around him. There was nothing but cold. Cold. Cold. Cold.

“I’m sorry,” Liam whispered again, his eyes full of sympathy. Brett’s were full of tears. 

“It’s my fault.” He let out a shuddering sob and scrubbed his cold hand over his cold face. “She was looking for me.”

“No, no Brett.” Liam leaned closer, and then both his hands were on Brett’s back. 

Brett buried his face against Liam’s warm chest and fell apart.

* * *

Theo’s stomach dropped as he stepped out of the Pathologist’s– _his_ room, and found Liam with his arms around Brett.

He blinked at the scene in front of him as the swooping empty feeling in his gut filled with heat. He didn’t know how to label it or why he was feeling it, but he didn’t like it.

Brett was crying. Liam was holding him. That was normal. Completely normal.

Theo’s claws dug into the palm of his hand, and he ducked back into his room.

If Liam wanted to _hold_ Brett so much, why had he hit Theo in the face for bringing him back? 

There was a scratching patter of little paws and a thumping heartbeat coming from beneath the Pathologist’s old desk. Theo had ignored it while he was washing his face and changing his clothes but now– 

He darted under the desk and grabbed the startled gray rat by its hairless tail. It squeaked and hissed as it flopped into the air and twisted around to bite Theo’s hand. 

It never got the chance. Theo swiped with his other hand and sunk his claws into its back. It jerked and kicked.

_Crunch._

And went limp as Theo snapped its backbone and crushed its rib cage. He held it until its heart stopped beating. Just another dead thing that shouldn’t have been in the lab to begin with.

Theo crawled out from under the desk and strolled back into the surgical room.

Liam and Brett looked up, their arms still around each other.

More swooping heat Theo couldn’t label.

“Don’t mind me. Just throwing away a dead rat.”

Theo elbowed Brett in the side as he reached around him to drop the lifeless rodent in the biohazard bin beside the surgical table.

Liam gaped at him.

Theo gave a little smirk and waved with bloody fingers as he walked out of the room.

* * *

Monroe unlocked the main doors to the Argent compound. It felt like coming home, only this time she would be in complete control and it wouldn’t take the presence of a fear demon for the city to view her and the army she would lead as heroes. They would be begging her to eradicate the threat and save Beacon Hills from an invasion of cannibalistic monsters. Once she had imposed martial law and dealt with the wendigos, it would be easy to crack down on all the other supernatural vermin that made the mistake of infesting her town. 

She flipped on the lights and smiled in satisfaction at _her_ new base. “Bring him in and get him set up in one of the rooms in the back.” 

“I can just go home,” Davis said, dragging his feet as Valdés and Taylor bought him inside. “I’ll call my wife. I live–”

“Here.” Monroe leveled him with a silencing glare. “You’ll stay here for the night, solider. We need to monitor your condition.”

Davis frowned but gave a crisp nod. 

She smiled at him, gentle and disarming the way she would have smiled at one of her students who needed help making a prudent decision. “If you’re feeling better in the morning, your wife can come and visit then.”

He nodded again but uncertainty creased Valdés’ face.

“Uh, isn’t this meant to be a secure location?”

Monroe folded her arms and arched her brow at Valdés’ uncharacteristic insolence. “Your wife isn’t a terrorist or a supernatural sympathizer is she, Davis?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, she isn’t.”

“Then I think we’ll be fine.”

Valdés maintained a stony expression as she and Taylor guided Davis up the hall.

“Lieutenant, wait.”

Valdés stiffened but separated from the other two, leaving Taylor to handle Davis’ accommodations on his own.

“My apologies, ma’am, it was just a passing concern.”

Monroe held up her hand. “No, not that. Do you have contact with any of our former hunters who deserted after Argent died?”

“I would never consort with fickle traitors who had abandoned the cause.” Her tone was level and her face gave nothing away.

Monroe graced her with the same disarming smile she had given Davis and led her to a gun locker on the other side of the vestibule. “I’m not questioning your loyalties, Lieutenant. I’m giving you a chance to prove them.”

“It would be my honor.”

“Put out the word to anyone who’ll listen. Let them know what we’re up against. The carnage those hellspawn wrought at the church in Gaunt Bluffs, and the very real forecast that they’ll bring it to bear on Beacon Hills next.” Monroe opened the gun locker and pulled out an assault rifle. “Tell them that the revolution is back on, and we’re accepting applications for war heroes.”

* * *

Brett coughed and let go of Liam as Theo walked out of the room. 

Liam rubbed his back and gave him a gentle look.

Brett swallowed and turned away as he wiped his eyes with his cold, dead fingers. He and Liam had never even hugged before, and now he was crying into his chest. 

“So, can you gimme a ride home? I need to be with Satomi.”

Liam let out a gurgle that was barely audible thanks to Brett’s dead fucking ears.

“Forget it. I’ll walk, or Uber, or–” 

Liam gripped Brett’s arm and gave him a haunted look as he got off the stool. “You can’t do that.”

“What?” He yanked his arm away. All he wanted to do was keep it together enough to leave with a shred of his dignity and get home so he could grieve with his alpha and adoptive mother. He fought back a wave of emotion and crossed his arms. “Am I prisoner or something because I’m a zombie?”

“What?” Liam recoiled from the idea and shook his head. “No, of course not.” 

“Then let me–” 

Brett tried to sidestep Liam, but obviously the living werewolf was quicker than the walking corpse. He kept himself squarely in Brett’s path. 

“You can’t.”

“Liam.” He growled and shoved Liam away. At least his strength was intact.

Liam sprang back and clutched Brett’s shoulders. “You can’t see Satomi.”

“Why not?!” Brett dug his fingers into Liam’s wrists as he tried to pry himself loose. None of this was Liam’s fault, and he had actually been kind and amazing tonight, but Brett’s whole life was fucked. He didn’t even technically _have_ a life anymore, and if Liam didn’t get out of his way and leave him alone, they were going to fight.

“She’s gone,” Liam whispered.

Brett quit struggling and tilted his head in confusion. “You mean she moved away after we...died?”

“No...” Liam’s face strained and his eyes took on the same gentle, sympathetic quality they’d had for most of the night. Brett really fucking hated that look.

“What happened?”

“A couple days after that night.” Liam guided Brett back onto the stool. “Two members of your pack, Jiang and Tierney–”

“What about them?” He froze. Were they okay? He couldn’t lose them too. His packmates were like family.

“They were, uh, detained, for killing some hunters.”

“What?!” Brett jumped off the stool, forgetting about his impaired reflexes. Liam caught him before he fell. “They would _never_ do that! They’re pacifists. They–”

“They did it” –Liam spoke over him– “for revenge.”

“No.” Brett snorted with derision. “We don’t believe in revenge. They didn’t do it. Someone’s lying.”

“Revenge because the hunters killed your pack, Brett.”

Brett went slack as another frigid wave of emptiness crashed over him. Liam held him up and set him back on the stool.

“No, that didn’t happen. You’re wrong,” he whispered, the faces of his packmates flashing through his mind.

“Satomi tried to have a peace talk with the hunters but...”

Brett gasped as every face swirling through his head became that of his alpha, his _mother._

“Is she...?”

Liam wrapped his arms around him and hugged him with werewolf strength. “I’m so sorry.”

Brett screamed into Liam’s chest and fell off the stool. They crumpled to the floor with Liam holding him.

* * *

_Rural Maine_

Mimi dumped the teenager’s body in the fly- and maggot-infested barn with most of her other victims from this fall, including the corpses of the original family that had lived on the property. The diary cow and her calf were dead too, but that had been an experiment to see if the cow would break out of her enclosure when dehydration set in. She had tried, but her will to live wasn’t very strong, and so she had perished. It was the way of the world.

Mimi went to the old maple tree behind the barn and filled a jar with syrup from the tap. It would make a nice treat for the road. 

She contemplated spending one more night in front of the wood furnace, but she didn’t have the time. The police were closing in and it was unquestionably time to leave Maine. She blamed herself for getting sloppy and leaving that woman’s body in her car two months ago, but the woman had been on a manic high, and after eating her brain Mimi had felt invincible. Disposing of the body properly had seemed trifling and irrelevant. Instead she had gone to a bar and spent the evening hustling pool and picking up men. She had gotten three of them to fuck her in their trucks before the bar closed. She hadn’t climaxed of course, but it was still a rush made all the more sublime by the manic brain she was on. She had even whispered to one of the men that she could murder him if she wanted to. He had called her a crazy bitch and fucked her harder.

The young guy she had left in the road about a month later had been a different situation altogether. He pulled out a gun as soon as she picked him up and tried to carjack her. He shot her in the chest when she wouldn’t cooperate. She still laughed when she recalled the look on his face as she yanked the gun out of his hand and bludgeoned him to death with it. By the time it was over, she had worked herself into a blind rage and she barely thought about it as she tore his head off and dumped his body in the road. 

She finished packing and gathered her things by the door. She needed to clean her car and take a final shower before she left her little farmhouse for good. Excited anticipation tingled in her veins the way it only could right after a feeding. There was another zombie out there. She concentrated and tried to get a read on its location. Far and vaguely southwesterly. That was good enough for now.

Whatever happened she wasn’t going to let the Dread Doctors keep the new zombie their prisoner to poke and prod and experiment on the way they had with her. When it was Mimi’s time in the enclosure her will to survive had been strong and she had broken out. And now it was time to go back for the calf. One way or another she was going to free it, whether that meant taking it with her and nursing it back to health or killing it to end its suffering.

* * *

Brett didn’t have room for the grief when Liam broke it to him that Jiang and Tierney hadn’t survived either, that literally everyone in his pack, himself included, was dead.

“We were orphans when Satomi took us in.” He was sitting on the ground, slumped against Liam’s side with his head on Liam’s chest and his legs sprawled in the puddle of green zombie slime he had dripped earlier in the night. 

“I know.” Liam rubbed Brett’s back. “She was a good alpha and a good person.”

Brett nodded and burrowed his face into the folds of Liam’s jacket as a fresh burst of anguish engulfed him. He was too broken to care that he had zero dignity left at this point. Liam was warm and good and he was the _only_ thing that was.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” Liam said after a few minutes.

Brett sniffled and sat up. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Of course you do.” Liam squeezed Brett’s shoulders and left it at that as he stood and helped Brett to his feet.

Theo appeared in the doorway. He had probably been listening. To the whole damn thing. Brett gave him the most hateful look he could muster.

“Come back tomorrow. I need to run some tests so I can learn more about your condition.”

“Fuck your tests.” Brett randomly shambled toward one of the other two doors in the room, hoping it led to the tunnels and the way out. 

Liam shook his head and steered him toward the other door.

“Liam, a word.” Theo motioned with his head.

“Nope, I’m gonna agree with Brett here. Fuck your tests, Theo.”

Theo sighed and called after them. “I think I might be able to improve his quality of life.”

Brett stopped and turned. He stared Theo down as he shuffled back across the room until he was looming over him.

“I don’t have a life. Or a reason to live. I was dead, like everyone I care about. I want to be dead, Theo. But you took that away from me.” He leaned in and breathed in Theo’s face. “Fuck your tests.”

Theo held up his hands and smiled. “Come back when you change your mind.”

* * *

Mason sighed and opened his eyes as someone patted his chest. His dad smiled down at him.

“Come on, buddy, let’s get you to bed.” He gently gripped Mason’s shoulder and guided him into a sitting position. “You’ll be sore if you sleep on the couch all night.”

“Uhn.” Mason scrubbed a hand across his eyes and groaned. Dad was right. His legs were already cramping. It didn’t help that his feet had fallen asleep at a weird angle because his cat, Athena, had curled up on top of them. She was a black and white calico with splashes of orange on her face and side. She let out a purring mewl and protested by rubbing her head against his ankle when he tried to move his feet. His other cat, the steel gray Persephone, was stretched across the back of the couch, staring down at her sister with a haughty superiority.

“So, feral dogs, eh? Do I even want to ask?” Dad nodded toward Mason’s laptop where it rested on the coffee table, the screen displaying an article about feral dog behavior.

Mason yawned as the less pleasant details of the night crept back in. “A pack of feral dogs supposedly attacked Corey’s grandmother, but I’m not buying it.”

“Oh.” Dad squeezed Mason’s shoulder, his brow creased with concern. “Is she like him? Will she heal?”

“Being a chimera isn’t genetic, Dad.” Mason rolled his eyes.

“I think genetic chimeras are actually a thing,” Dad answered with a smirk.

Mason laughed and conceded the point with a nod. “Well not Corey’s type of chimera. He’s one of a kind.”

“’Course he is, buddy.” Dad rubbed Mason’s back. “Time for bed. You can finish your research in the morning.”

Mason wanted to protest, but going back to sleep was appealing. Corey and the guy they had hooked up with had left him exhausted. Not that he would be sharing _that_ tidbit with his dad. He picked up Athena and climbed to his feet. 

Dad walked him upstairs, and Mason let him because this was something he would miss when he left for college next fall. 

“Night, Mom,” Mason called as they paused at his parents’ bedroom door. His mom was lying in bed reading on her tablet and sipping her nightly cup of chamomile. She set her drink on the nightstand and hopped out of bed.

“Good night, baby.” She kissed his cheek and tickled Athena’s head. “Sleep well. I love you.”

“You too.” Mason nodded and resumed the jaunt to his room, his dad still trailing behind him like he thought Mason might not make it, and okay Mason was a little bit tired and stumbly but Dad’s concern was completely unfounded.

Dad gave him a one-armed hug, careful not to disturb Athena, and kissed his forehead. “You want me to check under your bed for monsters?”

“That’s not funny, Dad.”

Dad shrugged and laughed. “You never know in Beacon Hills. Heck, maybe Liam’s under there.”

Mason rolled his eyes. His dad was such a cornball. “Night.”

“Night buddy. Love you.”

“You too.”

Mason left his door open a crack and set Athena on the foot of the bed. Sure enough when he got back from brushing his teeth and washing his face, Persephone was curled up next to her. He gave both his kitties a good night pet and switched off the lamp.

It didn’t take long for Mason to drift into a peaceful slumber, content in the knowledge that this troubling incident with Corey’s grandmother aside, for once everything in Beacon Hills was normal and safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


	3. Morning Gory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes graphic violence and gore.
> 
> Also, please note that there was **no notification for the second chapter.** It contained scenes with Liam explaining to Brett that he's a zombie and Mimi deciding to leave Maine. So if that doesn't sound familiar you might have missed a chapter. Sorry about the confusion on that and all chapters going forward should have notifications.

Brett heard the clanking clatter as one of Liam’s parents fought with an unruly stack of pots and pans in the kitchen downstairs. He even heard the garage door an hour or so earlier when it rattled open then shut, signaling that Liam’s other parent had left for work. The trouble was Brett had no idea which parent was which, just as he had no idea where in the house Liam’s dog was, or whether or not Liam was awake yet. 

He rolled over and stared at the guest room door, which he had left ajar the night before. There weren’t any smells wafting in. Whatever was cooking downstairs was a mystery. He closed his eyes and thought about Satomi’s cheese blintzes and the way Lori slurped her orange juice every morning to annoy him. 

The rattle of a dog collar and a panting that even Brett could hear interrupted him before an ache had time to form in the pit of his lifeless, empty stomach. The door creaked and swung wider, and one insensible mystery was solved as Bitsy, Liam’s giant Mastador, trotted into the room. 

Brett sat up and patted the mattress. 

She plodded closer and tilted her head at him, a whimper escaping her throat.

“It’s me, girl.” Brett patted the mattress again, bracing himself for the possibility that one of his favorite dogs might not like him anymore.

Bitsy cocked her ear and turned toward the door. Brett thought she was going to leave, but then she bounced onto the bed, sending a shockwave through the mattress that had Brett cracking a smile as he scratched her tawny neck and stroked her wide head. 

Her tongue lolled out and she stepped into his lap and nosed at his face.

“I know I must smell very different.” He wrapped his arms around the big dog and hugged her, nuzzling her soft neck. This was, if not the happiest, then the least miserable he had felt since waking up in the freezing lab. The guest room was cold too, and even after a full night spent lying awake and staring at the dark ceiling, the bed hadn’t warmed up. Bitsy was warm though, almost as warm as Liam had been the night before.

Brett’s pathetic hearing failed to detect the approach of Liam’s mom until her footsteps and voice were right outside the room.

“Are you in here? I’m going to give your food to the squirrels if you don’t–”

Liam’s mom let out a choked gurgle and clutched the doorframe as she gaped at Brett.

“Good morning, Dr. Dunbar.” Brett gave a polite nod and squeezed Bitsy closer. 

“LIAM!” Her eyes threatened to bulge out of her head. “LIAM!”

Brett ducked his head and tried to look nonthreatening. 

Footsteps thundered up the hall, and Liam skidded into the room in a t-shirt and pajama shorts, his hair disheveled and hanging messy and uneven over wide eyes. He looked between Brett and his mom before plopping across the foot of the bed.

“So uh, Brett needs a place to stay for awhile.” He draped an arm around Bitsy, and against Brett in the process. 

Brett scooted closer, his gaze catching on the morning stubble that lined Liam’s cheek and jaw and framed his lips.

“B-but...” 

Brett flicked his attention back to Liam’s mom.

“You...” Jenna’s mouth opened and closed as she waved a finger at Brett. “I thought you were dead.” She whipped her head back to Liam. “I thought he was dead?” Then back to Brett. “I thought you were dead!”

Liam shrugged and scratched behind Bitsy’s ears. “He is.”

She blinked at her son, then narrowed her eyes on Brett. “I went to your funeral.”

“Thank you.”

“Aahh!” She grabbed Liam’s shoulder and shook it. “What the hell? Do werewolves have nine lives or something?! And why didn’t you tell me that while we were grieving?” She swatted the back of his head.

Brett let out a shaky breath as a painful chill rolled down his spine. Werewolves most certainly did not have nine lives.

Liam’s hand slid higher up Bitsy shoulder and wedged against Brett’s chest. He didn’t make eye contact or react as Brett looked up, but his pinkie twitched.

“He’s a zombie.” Liam said it like it was no big deal, like he was telling his mom Brett was an Aquarius. 

The color drained away from her face and she eyed Brett suspiciously between nervous glances at Liam.

Brett let go of her dog and slid back on the bed, away from her son. 

“Mom!”

He slipped his hands under the sheets. He was freezing.

“Zombies are real now? And you brought one into our _home?!_ ”

Brett’s lower back prickled where the stupidly short shirt Liam had given him to sleep in had ridden up. It felt like icy tongues of fire were lapping at his skin. “I can go. I’ll leave. I’ll...leave”

 _Leave._ Brett wasn’t sure what that meant or where he would go, but it seemed right. Being among the living wasn’t fair to them or to him. 

Liam nudged Bitsy toward him and scooched closer, reclosing all the distance Brett had created and then some as he folded his leg over Brett’s knee through the bedding.

Brett raised his eyes, but Liam wasn’t looking at him or at his mom. He was staring at Bitsy’s back, his shoulders set and his lips drawn in an angry pout. 

Brett trailed his hand through the dog’s soft, tan fur and brushed his fingers over Liam’s. He forced a small smile when Liam looked up, but he didn’t mean it. His mind echoed with a self consciousness he had seldom felt while he was alive. He wasn’t doing Bitsy any favors petting her, and his touch wasn’t reassuring Liam. He was a dead block of ice who could only be unpleasant to physically interact with.

He cleared his throat and let go as casually as he could, tucking his hands back beneath the covers under Bitsy’s forepaws. Maybe it wouldn’t be too cruel through the thin barrier. He needed the reassuring weight and warmth even if it was selfish. He didn’t have the will to move his knee from under Liam’s thigh either.

“I’m sorry,” Jenna said quietly.

She approached the side of the bed and rubbed Brett’s shoulder, her thumb and fingertips making warm circles on his tight, stiff muscles. He wanted to lean into her touch, wanted to go back to hugging Bitsy and brushing his hand against Liam’s. But he didn’t.

“Of course you’re welcome here, Brett.” She squeezed his shoulder before letting go with a long breath. “But I do have some questions, and I do need more information.”

“ _Mom._ ” 

“It’s alright, Liam.” Brett took a breath too. 

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

Memories of running under the moonlight with his pack flickered into Brett’s mind, and for an instant he swore he could feel the tingly silver warmth on his skin.

“What would you like to know?”

“Are you contagious?”

“Seriously?!” 

Bitsy whimpered at Liam’s outburst and Brett gave in to the urge to pet her neck. It seemed to comfort her even if it shouldn’t have.

“I’m a doctor, Liam. I can’t go to the hospital and unwittingly infect immunocompromised patients.”

Crap. Brett hadn’t considered he might be a disease vector, patient zero in an undead pandemic. 

“I don’t know if I’m contagious.”

“You don’t know?” She folded her arms, a pained expression forming on her face. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“He’s the first zombie.”

Her frown deepened. “How did this happen?”

“Theo.” Liam flicked his hand in the air and left the explanation at that.

“Well does Theo know?”

Brett and Liam exchanged glances and shrugged.

“He wanted to run some tests...” Liam trailed off.

“But I wouldn’t let him,” Brett finished.

“I think we better quarantine ourselves.” Jenna’s voice was level, but Brett didn’t need super senses to tell she was frightened.

Liam huffed. “You’re being over-dramatic. I’ll just call Theo and have him meet us at the lab.” He glanced at Brett for confirmation.

Brett nodded. His attitude was still fuck Theo and fuck his tests, but not if it meant starting the zombie apocalypse.

Jenna hesitated but sighed in assent. “Fine, but go straight there and avoid contact with anyone but Theo. I’ll call your school and say you’re sick. 

Liam nodded vigorously enough for his chin to graze his chest and his tousled hair to bounce.

“And I understand if it takes longer than that to run the tests, but my shift starts at ten, so if you can get an answer by then–”

“We’ll try.” Liam nodded again, this time with a grin, whether because quarantine was off the table or simply because he didn’t have to go to school today, Brett wasn’t sure. “Don’t worry. Theo works fast.”

Jenna rolled her eyes. “Yes, I get that impression.”

* * *

Corey hesitated outside the kitchen as giggles and clinking plates alerted him that his parents were up early and having breakfast.

“Let’s blow off our shift today, baby,” Corey’s mother cooed, her chair scraping the floor. “We can take a nap, and have a picnic in the park. Then when we get home...”

Corey’s father moaned, and Corey desperately tried not to imagine where his mother’s hands had gone.

“I dunno, Sansan.” He kissed her with a nauseating smooch. “The landlord’s already up our ass about last month’s rent, and the cable’s gonna be shut off soon.”

“I know, but we never make nothin’ at lunch anyway.” 

Corey wanted to go back to his room and skip breakfast, but he was famished. He coughed and kicked the baseboard outside a few times before entering.

His mother flopped back into her seat and his father scooted his chair closer to the table. They both glared at him, but he ignored them and went to the pantry to get his cereal.

“Hey kid, you wanna make yourself useful?” Caleb asked.

Corey tensed and didn’t look up as he crossed the room with the cereal box to get a bowl.

“Listen, Benson’s breathin’ down my neck about the money we owe him.”

Corey poured his cereal, already mentally calculating how much cash was in his wallet and how much he could expect to make at the diner tonight. It was Friday and he was working until after the bars closed, so he might do pretty well when the drunk rush hit.

“Corey, look at your father when he’s talking to you. This is important.”

He ignored her and went to the refrigerator for milk.

“You’ll be out on the street too.” Caleb tapped his fork against his plate. “No more sleepovers with your boyfriend if you don’t have a bed.”

Corey splashed milk in his bowl and pulled out his wallet. “Mason didn’t sleepover.”

Sandra’s eyes lit up. “How much ya got?”

He hesitated. He needed to save at least enough for his date with Mason tomorrow night in case tonight was slower than he expected at work. “How much are we short for rent?”

“Don’t take that attitude.” She clicked her tongue and sipped from her chipped coffee mug. “You know how hard we work to keep a roof over your head.”

“Yeah, I know just how hard you work,” Corey muttered.

She huffed and his father’s face hardened, but then Corey pulled out a handful of bills and plunked them on the table.

“Here, this is about sixty.”

“That all?” Caleb grumbled and slid the money into his pocket without counting it.

“I lost my job at the movie theater,” Corey answered, not that it was any of their business.

“What happened?” Caleb chuckled and speared a piece of greasy bacon with his fork. “They catch ya in the back row messin’ with your boyfriend when ya shoulda been sweepin’ up?”

“No.” Corey put the milk back in the refrigerator and got a spoon from the drawer. “I missed too many shifts because half the people in town were trying to kill me and my friends.”

“What?” Caleb’s brow furrowed. Sandra looked equally confused. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Corey picked up his cereal and strolled out of the kitchen.

“Glad you’re okay, kid,” Caleb called after him.

“Yeah, happy you didn’t die, sweetie!” Sandra yelled.

 _Sure you are._ He took a bite of his stale, generic brand _Corn Puffs_ and shut his bedroom door. _You need my money._

* * *

Liam: _Don’t knock or ring the bell. Just walk in._

Mason shrugged at the odd message and slid his phone back in his pocket as he walked up the driveway to Liam’s front door. He dutifully twisted the knob and, finding it unlocked, entered as requested. He was about to call out and announce himself when Liam appeared at the top of the stairs with a finger raised to his lips. 

“What’s up?” Mason whispered, knowing his friend would hear him even though he was still descending the stairs. “Are you parents asleep or something? And what did you need to show me before school?”

“Brace yourself,” Liam whispered before turning and shouting back up the stairs. “Okay, come on down.”

Mason tilted his head in confusion as Liam’s dog plodded into view and slowly climbed down the staircase, her tongue lolling and a happy expression on her canine face.

“Uh, is something wrong with Bitsy? She looks okay.”

“Not her. Look.”

Mason staggered back, the air rushing out of his lungs as-as _Brett_ stepped into view and waved at him.

“He...he...” Mason clutched Liam’s arm.

“Yep, still has the eight-pack.”

Mason’s gaze drifted down Brett’s shirtless torso, and well, that was true, but– 

“What am I seeing?!”

Brett looked real enough, shockingly pale and with a stiff, awkward gait that was quite unlike the deft, graceful movements that had characterized him _while he was alive!_

“I-I went to your funeral.”

“Sounds like there was a good turnout.” Brett smiled and gripped the railing as he finished his descent. 

Mason could barely suck air into his lungs. He backed up until he hit the front door, tugging Liam along with him. “Wha-what?”

“It’s me, Mason.”

Mason blinked at him, trying to...Brett’s nipples were hard. So were his abs. And there was a very appealing outline in the front of his ill-fitting gray sweats. 

“See.” Liam patted Mason’s back and squeezed his neck. “Calming down already.”

“What’s going on in here?” Jenna walked into the living room and pursed her lips when she saw Mason. “Liam, what is _he_ doing here?”

Ouch. That was a frostier reception than Mason was used to from Liam’s mom...but on a sliding scale it was much less strange than being greeted by a sexy, shirtless ghost who didn’t seem to be wearing any underwear.

“What part of ‘let’s avoid a zombie outbreak’ confused you, baby?” she asked Liam with a hand on her hip.

“ _Zombie_ outbreak?!” Mason looked Brett over again. Definitely no underwear. And definitely also no putrefaction or open sores. Mason looked _really_ close just in case those deep v-lines were hiding anything, but nope.

“It’s nice to see you again too, Mason.”

Mason choked on his tongue and finally raised his eyes back to Brett’s face. “Are you... _you?_ ”

Brett nodded.

“Oh.” Mason gasped, overcome with a burst of unexpected emotion. He surged forward and wrapped his arms around Brett in a tight embrace. Damn, his body was _cold._ He ran his hands up and down Brett’s back and shimmied against his front, trying to warm him up the way he often did with Corey. But Corey’s skin was downright hot by comparison. 

Jenna groaned and Brett let go and stepped back.

“Sorry,” Brett mumbled.

Jenna glared at Liam. “If he is contagious, Mason might be infected now.”

“ _Infected?!_ ” Mason’s head spun. As happy as he was to see Brett, dread rolled down his spine.

“Don’t worry.” Liam shot him a reassuring smile. “Everybody knows zombies are only contagious if they bite or scratch you. Mom’s just being paranoid.”

“Um, we’re talking about zombies here, Liam! I think a certain degree of paranoia might be healthy!”

“I shouldn’t have touched you.” Brett shrunk back and stepped onto the bottom stair. 

“No, I...” Mason felt like a prick. Zombies were supposed to be shambling nightmares intent on cracking open people’s skulls, not lanky werewolves with visible dickprints who could get their feelings hurt. “Do you...have any urge to eat my brain?”

Liam swatted Mason’s arm.

“Do you?” Jenna asked carefully.

“Of course he doesn’t!” Liam stepped in front of Brett and glared at Mason and Jenna.

“Okay.” Jenna held up her hands.

The hair on the back of Mason’s neck prickled. Brett hadn’t actually answered.

“Why did you take your shirt off?” Jenna asked.

Brett smirked and flexed his abs. “It was Liam’s idea. He said Mason would take the news better this way.”

Mason laughed, relaxing a little and eying the obscene ridges and valleys that lined Brett’s stomach. “I mean...he wasn’t wrong.”

“Good, but now I’m gonna go put back on that little kid shirt you gave me,” Brett said with a wink at Liam.

“Augh!” Liam shoved Brett’s chest hard enough that he had to grab the banister to keep from stumbling. “You’re such a jerk!”

Jenna caught Mason’s gaze and rolled her eyes at them. He chuckled and nodded back. Some things hadn’t changed between Liam and Brett.

“C’mon dear.” She took Brett’s arm and led him off the stairs. “You can pick something from the grownup section.” She ruffled Liam’s hair. “I’m sure David has something that’ll fit you.”

“ _MOM!_ ” Liam growled as they stepped past him to head back up the hall to his parents’ room.

* * *

Nolan’s head felt like it might explode as he drove to school, his dry, sensitive eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. He probably should have worn earplugs too because the creak in his steering wheel made him want to scream...very very quietly. There was a good chance he would throw up if he ate, but he _definitely_ would if he didn’t, so he pulled into the Pump N Go gas station and parked next to pump number four. As he staggered into the convenience shop, the bell over the door made him long for the days when he carried a gun.

“Thanks for coming to Pump N Go, where I’ll bend over backwards to make sure you’re satisfied.”

Nolan lifted a single exhausted finger in acknowledgment of Rob, the middle-aged store owner who greeted him that way every weekday morning. He stumbled to the cappuccino machine. Maybe he’d feel better after a large French vanilla and some glazed donuts. He also grabbed a sausage burrito and tossed it in the store microwave. He could drink his coffee and eat his donuts on the way, then have his burrito in the parking lot before he got out.

“Morning, Nolan.” Rob’s clammy fingers brushed the back of Nolan’s hand as he took the donuts to ring up. “You sure you wouldn’t like something cream-filled?”

Nolan shook his head, his cheeks heating. “Just glazed is fine.”

“You want your tank filled? I’ll pump it myself.”

Nolan almost sprayed cappuccino. He swallowed and coughed. “I, uh, I can pump myself.”

“Oh, I bet you pump yourself all the time.” Rob’s hand was all over Nolan’s as he took his credit card. “But I can take real good care of you if you want a break. Check your fluids, drain whatever needs draining, whole nine.”

Nolan’s stomach twisted and heaved. “S-self serve, please.”

“If you say so.” Rob handed Nolan’s card back with a smile. “See you tomorrow.”

Nolan nodded and hustled outside, painfully aware of Rob’s eyes on him as he left. He really wished there was another gas station on his way to school. 

After setting his food and drink in the car, he swiped his card at the pump. As he unscrewed the fuel cap and jammed the nozzle into place a familiar black SUV pulled into the parking lot. He gasped and dropped behind the side of his car. 

No, no, no. What was she doing here? He thought she had left town after the Anuk-Ite’s influence faded and her mob had dispersed and gone back to their normal lives. 

He hooked the auto-fill mechanism on the pump handle into place and duck-walked around to the back of his car, as far out of sight as he could get. He needed to text Liam, but his phone was in the car. 

Deep breaths. He counted to twenty and peered around the bumper. The SUV had parked at a different set of pumps and she was nowhere to be seen.

He waited until he heard the click signaling his tank was full, then crept back around the– 

She was leaning against his car, arms folded.

He yelped and fell over backward, sending the sunglasses slipping off his face and onto the grimy pavement.

“You don’t look well, Nolan.” Monroe frowned with mock sympathy and yanked the nozzle out of the fuel tank, flinging the gasoline trapped in the hose all over him. 

He gagged and it proved too much for his delicate stomach. He got to his knees just in time to hack a puddle of coffee-tinted bile on the concrete platform that supported the pumps. 

“You’re not still having nightmares are you?” She slammed the nozzle into its holster and loomed closer.

He wiped the gasoline off his face and fought back a second wave of nausea as he scrambled to his feet and out into the open lot.

“Don’t forget your sunglasses.” They crunched under the toe of her boot. “Oops. Pity, those looked expensive. I take it your absentee father is still giving you his money but none of his time?”

“You can’t do anything to me in public.” He risked a furtive glance at the store. Rob was watching them through the window. Maybe he’d come out and make her leave.

“I’m a very busy woman, Nolan, and you aren’t worth my time today.” She leaned her hip against his car. “You see, I may have to go put a ravening beast out of its misery in a little while.”

“Oh, well, uh...” Nolan trailed his thumb over the wet swath of gasoline that covered the front of his shirt. He hated to abandon his car and his phone, but should he make a run for it? Or was she about to leave like she indicated? 

“Have you ever heard of wendigos, Nolan?”

“I-I mean, I’ve heard of them, but...”

“Cannibalistic monsters with double rows of razor-sharp teeth and glowing white eyes.”

Nolan swallowed and glanced at the store. Rob waved.

“Their bites, in the unlikely event that you survive an attack, are contagious.” She stepped closer, breaking contact with his car and giving him an opening. Maybe he could rush past her and drive away. “You might turn. You might not.”

“S-sounds bad.”

“Very bad, Nolan.” Monroe’s coat billowed as she advanced another few steps, revealing a gun holstered beneath it. “They were in Gaunt Bluffs, but now they’re coming here. To Beacon Hills.”

He was rooted in place, too terrified to run for fear she would shoot him.

“So if I don’t see you later...” She sighed and shook her head. “I’m sure one of those things will.”

* * *

“You can have shotgun.” Liam bumped Brett’s shoulder as they crossed the driveway to Mason’s car. “It has heated seats.”

Brett liked the sound of that.

“Yeah, and you can use Corey’s blanket,” Mason added with a smile over his shoulder.

“Corey’s blanket?” 

That mystery was solved as Brett opened the passenger side and found a plush red-and-black checkered blanket folded in the seat. It had a temperature control wand and was wired to a cable already plugged into the center console. 

“I think I’m gonna steal Corey’s blanket.” Brett clicked his seatbelt into place and wrapped himself up in the cozy fleece. The display lit up as soon as Mason turned on the ignition. 

Liam laughed and bumped the back of Brett’s seat with his knee. “We’ll getcha one.”

Brett frowned, his burst of good humor fading as he realized Liam meant either him and his parents or him and Mason, but either way Brett was _dependent_ on someone other than his own family and pack to take care of him.

“Turn up your heat as much as you want.” Mason tapped Brett’s arm and pointed at the dual-zone climate control settings.

Brett nodded and did just that. By the time they were halfway to the tunnel access point they planned to use, Brett had truly warmed up for the first time since last night. He rolled his borrowed shirt up under his chin and pressed the soft, toasty blanket directly against his skin. 

“Theo’s phone is still going to voicemail,” Liam said from the backseat.

“You think we should wait to hear from him?” Mason asked, pausing longer than necessary at a stop sign.

“Nah, I bet it means he’s already there. It was going to voicemail last night too,” Liam answered. “I don’t think the tunnels and lab get reception. If he was at home or somewhere else it would probably ring.”

“I think he...” Brett trailed off, remembering the look Theo had shot him the night before when he had almost told Liam that Theo seemed to be sleeping in the lab. 

“Yeah?” Mason asked.

Brett hesitated. He had no reason to keep Theo’s secret. He hated him for what he had done, but the information might be useful, and he would have zero guilt about blackmailing that asshole. 

“I think he probably is down there like Liam says.”

Mason hummed in agreement and turned at the next intersection. “So uh, I don’t wanna hit a nerve or anything, but I’m kinda curious about something.”

Brett sighed but tried to hide it behind a smile. This wasn’t going to be good, and if it were Liam asking he might have told him to shut up or made a sarcastic comment, but he had always liked Mason and that had never been how their dynamic worked. 

“Go ahead.”

“Are you still a werewolf?” 

“Yeah, I was wondering that myself,” Liam interjected.

“No.” Brett turned up the temperature on his blanket as a sharp ball of cold pain formed in the back of his brain and slowly crept down through the rest of his lifeless body.

Mason didn’t say anything, just gave Brett an apologetic look and returned his eyes to the road.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m fucking sure, Liam.” Brett turned in his seat and glared at him. “Are my eyes glowing?”

“No...”

Brett flipped him off. “Do you see a claw on the end of this?”

Liam sniggered and shook his head.

“Okay, well...” Brett turned back around and folded his arms. “I was trying. My sense of smell is gone too, and I can’t hear for shit. I’m not...I...”

Liam’s fingers curled around Brett’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Don’t.” He jerked forward and swatted Liam’s hand away. 

“I’m just tryin’ to be nice.” Liam banged Brett’s seat with a growl.

“Yeah, I get that,” Brett growled back, as rough as he could. “But everything’s wrong and I don’t want anymore of your fucking pity.”

“You ungrateful asshole. Since I found you last night, I’ve done nothing but–”

“Hey look, there’s Theo’s truck!” Mason pointed with exaggerated enthusiasm at a big blue truck parked in a strip mall across the street from their tunnel access point.

Brett ignored him and turned back around to Liam. “Do you know how fucking hard I’ve been trying not to snap every goddamn second of every goddamn minute?! Excuse me if I don’t have the energy to babysit your fucking feelings right now.” 

Liam’s eyes blazed amber and he opened his mouth, but Mason laid on the horn and didn’t stop. With his dulled senses, Brett couldn’t make out a word Liam was shouting at him. 

Finally, Liam unhooked his seatbelt and lunged into the front seat to pull Mason’s hand away from the wailing horn. “Fine, I’ll shut up. Just stop before you make me deaf.”

Brett clenched his jaw and stared at his lap. It was fucked up how envious he was of Liam’s ringing ears.

* * *

Corey leaned against his locker frowning at his phone. Mason had texted him that morning to say that he had to meet Liam before school, but Corey had still expected him to be here by the time he arrived since he had to take the bus and the driver always ran behind schedule.

He had already texted Mason twice, so he sent him a string of Emojis expressing his distress. It was silly, and he didn’t really feel like an anthropomorphic cat holding its face and screaming, but he had kind of been counting on Mason to keep him distracted so he wouldn’t freak out about Nana.

He texted Liam too in case Mason was driving.

Corey: _Hey you guys otw?_

“Where’s Liam?!” 

Corey flinched and turned to find Nolan standing behind him with wide eyes and a wet shirt. Corey took a step back, his nose scrunching. Gasoline.

“I dunno.”

“But where is he?!”

“Dude, what do you think, ‘I dunno’ means?”

“He’s not answering my calls!”

_Gee, I wonder why._

“Do you know where he is?!”

“Still no.”

Nolan rocked back and forth and ran a hand through his long bangs. “There are monsters coming! And hunters!”

“There always are,” Corey mumbled, more tension seeping into his shoulders.

“And Monroe’s back in town! And I think Theo’s a grave robber!”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I saw him at the cemetery last night. He had a shovel.”

“Not that.” Corey held up a finger and shook his head as he tried to make sense of that second piece of news. “We’ll come back to that. What do you mean Monroe is back in town?”

“She like, is.” Nolan smirked at him and bobbed his head. “What do you think, ‘back in town’ means?”

Corey arched his brow and conceded the point with a sideways nod. “Where did you see her?”

“At the gas station.”

Ah, that made sense.

“Did she, like, spray you?”

“Yeah.” Nolan frowned and rubbed his wet shirt.

“That’s weird.” Corey glanced at the smelly fabric and took another step back. “You should change.”

“I’ve been trying,” Nolan answered quietly, his pink lips forming a sad line. “But lasting change is tough, and my therapist says it’s gonna be a daily battle.”

“Oh.” Corey waited a tactful amount of time before adding, “I just meant your shirt.”

“Oh!” Nolan nodded, his face brightening. “I can do that. I’ll put on my gym shirt.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Corey backed away and pointed down the hallway. “Anyway I have to go... over there. I’ll let Liam know you were looking for him when I see him.”

“I could go with you over there.”

“It’s more of a solo quest.”

“But don’t you wanna hear about Theo and his grave robbing?” Nolan’s blue eyes took on a pleading, stormy quality and he drew his bottom lip into his mouth.

“Uh, maybe another time.” Corey kept backing away until it wasn’t rude to turn around. 

Nolan was magnetically adorable, and he could play vulnerable better than anyone Corey had ever met, but Nana was in the hospital, his parents had stopped paying the bills, and he had far too many of his own problems to get sucked into the ex-hunter’s vortex of crazy.

* * *

Theo sat on his stool reading another section of the Pathologist’s zombie journal, this one about his early experiments on his original test subject. A stack of assorted other Dread Doctor journals occupied the corner of the counter, waiting to be consumed at Theo’s leisure, but the information in the zombie volume was the most pressing to devour.

That immediacy faded as Theo cocked his head and strained his hearing. He thought he had heard the distinctive thump of Liam’s heartbeat, which marked about the tenth time that morning that he thought he had heard it. But wait, there was a second heartbeat this time. Mason. He hadn’t heard Mason’s phantom heartbeat even once. That meant they were both real. Liam had come back!

Theo’s lips quirked into a smile as he closed the leather-bound book and hopped off the stool. Of course Liam had come back. Theo knew he would come back. They were friends. They couldn’t stay mad at each other.

The smile faded from Theo’s face and his blood pumped hot in his veins. He was _pissed_ at Liam. And Brett. God he hated Brett. He wanted to tear him apart and stuff him back in that damn casket – no, the incinerator in the lab. Make damn sure there was nothing left to come back a second time. Not that resurrecting a zombie a second time was possible based on his understanding of how zombie death worked.

He ran a hand through his hair, straightened his shirt and– 

_The blankets!_

He dashed around the room yanking wet blankets off the surgical table, medical stand, and supply cabinets where he had hung them to dry. Damn goopy zombie. He couldn’t let Liam see or he would get suspicious about why Theo had bothered to wash and dry them so soon.

He balled them up and threw them in his room atop his sleeping bag. He closed the door just as Liam and Mason walked into the surgical room, the dumb, goopy zombie shambling behind them.

“I knew you’d be back.” He crossed his arms and gave Liam a smug smile before flicking his attention to Mason. “And I take it you’re up to speed?”

“Your name is Theo Raeken and you're mixed up in experiments involving supernatural resurrection.” Mason gave him a dry look. “I was up to speed two years ago.”

“Am I contagious?” Brett asked, shuffling forward.

“No.”

“Good.” He grabbed Liam’s and Mason’s arms. “You heard him, I’m not contagious. Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Liam pulled himself loose and frowned at Theo. “You said you could improve his life...or death or whatever.”

Theo snorted and rolled his eyes. “Do you hear his heartbeat?”

It was much lighter and slower than Liam’s and Mason’s, and Theo hadn’t heard it coming until well after he had detected theirs, but it was there.

“Yeah,” Liam answered slowly, his eyebrows drawing together.

“So he’s not dead then, is he Liam?”

“I guess not...” Liam turned to Brett and blinked at him.

“What?! I’m _not_ dead?” Brett placed a hand over his chest and held it there. “I don’t feel it.”

“It’s faint. Come here.” Theo curled his finger at Brett and nodded at the stool. Once he was seated, Theo opened one of the cabinets along the back wall.

“What are you doing?” Liam’s voice rang with suspicion.

Theo looked at Liam, a pain stinging the pit of his stomach. He held up the little cuff and box he had retrieved, showing Liam the display. “Blood pressure machine.”

“Well...okay.” Liam's nostrils flared as he sniffed it.

Theo didn’t feel like continuing, but he pulled apart the velcro cuff anyway and snapped his fingers at Brett. “Take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

Theo growled and dropped the machine on the counter. “If you don’t want my help–”

“How ‘bout I do it?” Mason cut in, brushing past Theo to pick up the device.

“Aren’t you worried I’ll bite too?” Theo snarled at Mason.

Mason raised his hand, beckoning Liam off, and held Theo’s gaze. “No, I’m not.”

Theo’s brow furrowed. He didn’t know how to interpret that. Mason hadn’t said it in a threatening way.

“Thank you for helping us,” he said softly as he bumped Theo's arm with his elbow.

Theo shrugged, a little flicker of something warm he usually only felt toward Liam twitching in his core.

Brett opened his jacket and wiggled out of one sleeve.

“I also need to draw blood to check his glucose and run a panel of tests.”

“Like hell–”

Mason patted Brett’s arm as he strapped the cuff in place. “I’ll take the samples for that too.”

“Fine.” Brett grunted and folded his arms.

“Relax, we need a neutral reading.” Mason rubbed his back and started the machine.

“Can I talk to you in private?” Liam asked, motioning with his head toward the antechamber he and the others had entered through.

“If we talk low enough we don’t even have to leave the room,” Theo whispered below the range of human hearing.

“Not polite,” Liam whispered back, walking out.

Theo followed him. They stopped just outside the doorway. 

“Yeah?”

“What’s your deal?” Liam’s typically blue eyes glimmered a soft green in the glow of the fluorescent wall lantern mounted above his head. 

“What do you mean?” Theo discreetly sniffed the air. Liam was tangy and sweet, curious.

“Cut the crap, Theo.” Liam held eye contact, and Theo felt warm and tingly. He made sure to block his chemosignals so Liam wouldn’t notice. “I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt here, so tell me you’re not up to something bad.”

“I’m not up to something bad.”

Liam growled and stepped closer, getting in Theo’s face. Theo didn’t back up.

“Are you lying? Your scent is off. It's too flat. What are you hiding?”

“I don’t know,” Theo answered truthfully, but with a roguish smile so it would seem less weird. “But it’s my prerogative to keep my emotions private.” He didn't break eye contact. Liam’s irises were cool and clear, drifting back to blue now that he was closer, hovering between the shadows and light with Theo. “But I promise I’m not up to anything you wouldn’t approve of.”

Damn. Too much emotion had slipped into his voice. It sounded a little more true than Theo had intended, but ironically might read like a lie to Liam.

“I’m gonna ask you again, why did you bring Brett back?”

Theo’s mouth went dry and he hid his heartbeat to keep Liam from noticing the way it pounded. That might read as a lie too, but fuck it. If he wanted to believe Theo was lying, let him.

“I did it for you. I thought it would make you happy.”

Liam closed his eyes and swallowed. His face twitched with an array of microexpressions that Theo couldn’t even begin to analyze, but they were...interesting, and Theo watched intently until he opened his eyes again.

“Yeah, that’s kinda what I thought.”

“Really?” Theo folded his arms and smirked at Liam.

“Uh-huh, after I got home last night and thought about it more.” He sighed and shook his head at Theo. It was fond, like a friend, and Theo’s whole insides were tingly. Resurrecting that smug prick was so worth this.

“Are we done here?”

Liam nodded and Theo turned to go back inside, but Liam’s fingers curled around his forearm. 

Now Theo was tingly in other places too. This was new.

“Don’t raise anymore zombies for me, okay?”

“Sure.” Theo grinned and held his arm absolutely still, careful not to spook Liam’s hand. “No more zombies.”

“Promise.”

Theo snickered, resisting the inexplicable softness that threatened to form in his eyes. “I promise, Liam. I won’t raise anymore zombies for you.”

“Okay, let’s go.” He released Theo’s arm and they went back into the surgical room.

Theo laughed as they found Mason wearing a stethoscope. He must have seen it in the cabinet when Theo got out the blood pressure machine. 

Liam laughed too, a grin lighting his face. “Well doctor, what’s the verdict?”

Mason rolled his eyes and removed the stethoscope. “He’s only taking about four breaths per minute at rest when not speaking.”

“What’s normal?” Brett asked.

“Between about twelve and eighteen,” Mason answered as he handed Theo the equipment back. “Blood pressure forty over fifteen, and pulse twenty.”

“So, I’m basically dead even if I’m not technically dead?” 

“You’re undead,” Theo answered, his back turned as he went through the cabinets until he found a sealed syringe and a tray of five empty vials. He passed them to Mason. “We’ll start with these, but I’ll need more later.”

Liam’s eyes bulged and Brett groaned.

“I have a lot to test for,” Theo answered with a shrug. “I need to establish zombie baselines on pretty much everything. I’ll need lymph, spinal, urine, and semen samples too.”

Brett huffed with indignation.

“Well whenever you’re in the mood.”

“When is anyone in the mood to give a lymph sample?” Liam whispered.

“It’s a rare mood,” Theo conceded.

Brett cleared his throat. “Speaking of urine...”

“No good conversation ever started this way,” Liam mumbled, hopping onto the counter beside Theo.

Mason set the syringe and vials on the medical stand and went to the sink to wash his hands.

“Can I eat and drink?” Brett didn’t look at Theo, just glared at the wall behind him. 

“Drink yes, water and clear liquids.” Theo shifted his weight, leaning closer to Liam against the counter. “but I need to test your ACR and GFR before you resume normal fluid consumption.”

“ACR and G...what?” Brett’s face scrunched with irritation.

“GFR,” Mason repeated before Theo had the chance. “Glomerular filtration rate, and ACR is albumin to creatinine ratio. They’re two different measures of kidney function.”

“That’s right.” Theo gave Mason an impressed nod. “I can check your GFR with these blood samples.”

“But we’ll need a urine sample for the ACR,” Mason finished as he donned a pair of latex gloves.

“I haven’t had anything to drink since...”

“Oh wow, you must be parched then. I’ll getcha some water.” Liam hopped off the counter and turned to Theo. “You have a glass?”

_Ooh, the zombie’s thirsty. Let me drop everything._

“Theo?”

Theo smiled and pointed at the cabinet above the sink. “Should be some mugs up there by the barium sulfate.”

“The barium sulfate?” Brett asked as Mason tied a latex tourniquet over his bicep.

“For the enemas,” Theo answered.

“I’m not gonna need one of those am I?” 

“Maybe.” Theo shrugged. “We’ll get to your GI system in a second.”

“Gosh, save something for the second visit.”

“Here.” Liam passed Brett the mug filled with water.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Mason grabbed Brett’s elbow as he reached for the mug. The needle was already in his vein. 

“I didn’t even feel it.” Brett furrowed his brow and frowned as blood seeped around the needle. Mason finished the sample and held a square of gauze against the bend in Brett’s arm. 

“How do you know he’s not contagious?” Liam asked, slipping the mug into Brett’s other hand as Mason prepared to take the next sample.

“There’s a section in the Pathologist’s notes. They wanted complete control over the selection and transformation process. The zombie experiments were never meant to culminate in a plague.”

“So, what were they trying to do?” Mason asked.

“Well there were plans to build an elite zombie army of course.”

“Oh, of course.” Liam rolled his eyes and rejoined Theo by the counter.

Theo smirked at him before continuing. “But their primary objective was to kill and enslave other scientists. That’s why the serum is designed to preserve the minds and creative personalities of vict– uh, patients.”

“So there’s no risk of accidental infection or transmission?” Mason asked, preparing the third sample.

“Certainly not. I’m no lunatic.” Theo turned his head just enough to glance at the stack of Dread Doctor journals on the edge of the counter that he had only just scratched the surface on reading. The Surgeon had characterized Theo as a narcissistic psychopath with grandiose tendencies. But not as a lunatic! “I wouldn’t have used the serum if it risked infecting everyone.” Like him and Liam. That would have been completely unacceptable.

The others visibly relaxed, but a pensive look remained on Mason’s face. “Couldn’t the serum have degraded over time, or mutated in Brett’s body?”

“Unlikely, but I guess it couldn’t hurt to run some additional test to be sure.” _At last, a use for all those damn rats scuttling around!_ “You better take some extra blood samples.”

Everyone groaned as Theo got more vials from the cabinet.

“So” –Liam hopped back up on the counter– “how are you going to improve his quality of life or undeath or whatever?”

“The Dread Doctors didn’t want their subjects to be too comfortable. I think I can modify the serum to restore him to a more lifelike state.”

“Great! When will it be ready?” Liam asked with a grin and a little bounce.

“Around three this afternoon.” 

Liam’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

“No, because that would be ridiculous.” Theo smirked at him. “It’s going to take dozens, maybe hundreds, of hours of work and that’s if I can do it at all.”

Liam deflated and backhanded Theo’s arm. “You’re not funny.”

Theo rolled his eyes, ignoring the warm glow that remained where Liam had touched his skin.

“The first step is filtering, distilling, and analyzing that.” He pointed at the refrigerated glass tank beneath the surgical table containing brownish green zombie sludge. The concentrate had been a stable solution, but the catalyst and diluents had a shelf life, and the color and consistency had already begun to change by the time Theo drained the trough and refrigerated the compound. “I don’t have the original formula, but I think I might be able to derive it by running everything through a mass spectrometer and working backwards through the chemical reactions.”

“Do you have an ion chromatography system or a gas chromatography system?” Mason asked.

“Both, the lab is very well equipped.” Theo smiled proudly. It was all his now, a legacy for his years of servitude.

“You should do gas chromatography. It’ll be better at identifying unknown contaminants from Brett’s embalming and burial.”

“Well duh.”

Mason laughed and handed Theo the tray of completed blood samples. “I can help with the calculations if you’d like.”

Theo hesitated, unsure about collaborating with anyone, especially a non-scientist. Although, technically Theo wasn’t a scientist either, and the Dread Doctors had worked together as a team.

“Okay, I guess we can see how that goes.”

“Great!” Mason’s face lit with excitement. “I can’t wait to get my hands on your equipment!”

Liam sniggered and Brett smirked at Mason.

“His _lab_ equipment.” 

Theo shrugged. “Just don’t break anything.”

“I’ll be gentle,” Mason assured him with a smirk of his own.

“You’ll have to play with his equipment later.” Liam held up his phone. “We gotta get going. I need to get to the surface and call my mom to let her know Brett’s not contagious and she can go to work.”

“Oh crud, and in all the excitement I forgot to text Corey. I need to check on him. He’s having a family crisis.”

Brett unrolled his sleeve and put back on his jacket, but Theo raised his hands and stepped forward before he could get up.

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere until I get some urine.”

“Seriously, you guys need to run things through your head before you say them,” Liam muttered.

Brett argued but eventually agreed to stay for some more tests. 

“Theo.” Liam motioned to speak with him privately again.

“I know.” Theo smiled and slipped his thumbs into his pockets, making sure his arm was available in case Liam wanted to grab it again. “I promise not to murder him and rebury his body.”

Liam relaxed a little.

“This time he’s going straight in the incinerator.”

Liam gasped, then narrowed his eyes and shoved Theo. “If I can’t trust you...”

“You can trust me, Liam.” Theo reclosed the distance between them and leaned his palm against the wall by Liam’s head. “I’m not going to try anything.”

“Right.” Liam side eyed Theo’s hand. “Anyway, you didn’t address the elephant in the room.”

“More of a gangly giraffe. And I did a few times. He’s the one who barley addressed me.”

“I’m talking about brains.”

“So not Brett then.”

“Theo.” Liam flashed his eyes and the tips of his fangs poked from beneath his lips. Theo counted it as a victory. “Does Brett have to eat brains to survive?”

“Of course, he’s a zombie.”

“Oh god.” Liam sunk against the wall, brushing his head against Theo’s hand in the process. 

Theo patted his head like a dog. He was a good boy after all. 

Liam swatted his hand away. “How long until he has to eat his first one?”

“That’s something I’m hoping to determine with the tests.”

“Well, if he loses control and it turns out to be your brain he eats...”

“Yeah?”

Liam smiled and gripped Theo's shoulder. “I’m letting Mason have all your lab equipment.”

* * *

“C’mon, C’mon. Pick up.” Nolan paced outside his second hour class as he rang Liam’s number for the fourth time that day. He had texted him several times throughout first hour too. 

The hunters were back, and the wendigos were going to invade, and between them they were going to kill _everybody,_ and Liam was the only person who could stop it, and he wasn’t answering his damn phone! 

Nolan closed his eyes and collapsed against the wall as he got Liam’s voicemail. 

“I know you’re mad at me for saying Theo was a grave robber, but please call me back.”

He took a shaky breath and opened his eyes, desperately hoping he might see the werewolf on his way to class. Instead he spotted Corey standing on the other side of the hall scowling at his own phone. Corey’s frown deepened and he quickly looked away when they made eye contact.

Nolan’s stomach twisted. That was how everyone at school reacted when he made eye contact with them, even the teachers. Nolan approached him anyway. He had to do something to stop the cannibals from eating everyone or the hunters from starting another war. 

“Don’t.” Corey held up his hands and sighed. “I don’t know where Liam is. I can’t even find Mason.”

Oh. That explained why Corey was so grumpy. He went everywhere with Mason. 

“Maybe I can help. They’re probably together. We should team up.”

“Team up?”

“Yeah!” Nolan nodded, his mind whirling with possibilities. “It’ll be like in lacrosse! But instead of the ball we’ll pass each other info about Liam and Mason.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Corey mumbled, shoving his phone in his pocket.

Nolan hung his head. No one ever had time for him.

“Now on top of worrying about Mason, I have to figure out how to get to Gaunt Bluffs this afternoon.”

“Gaunt Bluffs?!” Nolan blinked and grabbed Corey’s arm as he started to leave. “You can’t go there!”

“Nolan.” Corey glared and yanked himself free. “Just leave me alone.”

“No!” Nolan grabbed him again. “Don’t go to Gaunt Bluffs. That’s where the monsters are coming from.”

Corey rolled his eyes and sighed. “The mon–” He froze and realization flashed across his face. “What kind of monsters?”

“Wendigos.” Nolan hissed and looked around to make sure no one was listening. He didn’t want to cause a panic. “Monroe says they have double rows of teeth and glowing eyes. They’re cannibals, and most people don’t survive an attack, but if they do they might turn into a wendigo themself.”

“Oh my god.” Corey stumbled back against a bank of lockers.

“I know! That’s why we gotta warn Liam. He can call the rest of your pack and maybe...” Nolan trailed off as Corey sank to the ground, his shoulders shaking. “It’s okay, Corey, they’re not here yet.” He crouched beside him and nudged his arm. “Besides, you can turn invisible, and you’re really strong. You’ll be okay.”

“My nana lives in Gaunt Bluffs.”

“Oh no, you should get her to move.”

“I think she got attacked.”

“See.”

Corey glared at him and climbed to his feet. “I have to go see her right now.”

“What?” Nolan was about to try to stop him, but he stopped on his own, his head tilted as he gave Nolan a sly, thoughtful look. “...what?”

“I need you to drive me.”

“What?!”

“I don’t have a car.”

“You want me to go to the wen–” Nolan looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “To the wendigo town?!”

“Not everyone there is a wendigo, Nolan. My nana’s lived there her whole life, and my parents just got back and they’re fine, and I talked to some nurses on the phone last night.”

“Yeah but–”

“And you said Monroe was back in Beacon Hills.” Corey arched an eyebrow. “She can’t be too happy with you.”

“S-she’s not.”

He frowned and nodded. “So you can stay here, _alone,_ and take your chances with her and any wendigos that are coming or–”

“Fine, I’ll go with you.” Nolan latched onto Corey’s arm and whispered in his ear. “You can turn me invisible too right?”

Corey smirked at him and a warm breeze washed over Nolan as the world around them became shimmery and bathed in green light.

“This is so cool!” Nolan whisper-shouted as they jogged up the hall, darting around other students.

* * *

Liam trudged through the tunnels beside Mason. On the way down, things had been tense because he and Brett had been angry at each other and brooding, but that familiar irritation and mutual hostility was nothing compared to the crushing dark certainty that now loomed over the future.

“What did Theo tell you when we were leaving?” Mason asked softly as they rounded a bend in the tunnels.

Liam shrugged one shoulder and stared straight ahead. He _did_ want to talk about it, he just wasn’t sure if he could.

Mason didn’t say anything, just patted Liam’s back and let him have another few minutes of silence as they traversed the damp, smelly tunnels. Liam was ready as they entered the final leg of their journey to the surface.

“Brett has to eat brains to survive.”

Mason sighed and stared straight ahead into the shadows like Liam. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“He’s not gonna be willing to do that,” Liam answered, hating the way his voice swelled and twilled. “And even if he was willing...we couldn’t let him.”

“I know.” Mason leaned into Liam’s shoulder and glanced at him. “Don’t give up though. You heard Theo, we can refine the formula, maybe find a way around the brains thing.”

“No.” Liam’s mouth hurt it was drawn into such a tight, thin line. “He said that would take hundreds of hours. I doubt Brett has that long.”

“He said _dozens_ up to hundreds of hours, and that was before he knew I would be helping him. Besides, we don’t know how long Brett has, or what other options we can come up with.”

“I guess.” Liam stopped and gripped Mason’s arm, the weight in his chest deepening. “Maybe it’s for the best though. Last night, he...”

Mason squeezed Liam’s hand over his arm and looked away, giving him some time and space to continue.

“He said he wanted to be dead.” Liam nodded and stared at their feet, trying not to hate Brett for the words. “I get it. He lost everyone.”

“He’s depressed. Anyone would be.” Mason nudged Liam’s arm. “But he’s gonna get through this. We’re gonna help him.”

Liam swallowed and resumed walking. He wanted to tell Mason that all of this was his fault, that Theo had brought Brett back for him, that he was the reason Brett was suffering, facing a second, even slower death, while also having to grieve for his family and pack. It wasn’t right. He should be at peace now. 

Mason caught up with him and squeezed his shoulder. “There’s an organic coffee house in the shopping center where we parked.”

Liam shrugged. “Werewolves can’t get caffeine buzzes.”

“No, but they can talk and vent their feelings.”

“Didn’t I just do that?” Liam smirked without humor and furrowed his brow.

“I’m thinking there’s a little more left in there.”

Liam shrugged again as they reached the bottom of the ladder. “I guess we might as well.”

* * *

_Greater Baltimore_

Mimi had driven all night and into the morning, sticking to back highways and traveling just under the speed limit to avoid attracting attention. Her luck ran out as she skirted through the suburbs of Baltimore to avoid the city proper. A siren wailed and red and blue lights flashed in her rear view mirror.

She pursed her lips and turned off the radio. There was an exit about a quarter of a mile up the road with a line of trees obscuring it from the highway. It was more visible than she would have liked, but preferable to conducting this affair on the side of the main road. She slowed down and turned on her signal. 

The cop pulled up right behind her and followed her onto the exit ramp, his lights still flashing but his sirens no longer whooping. 

She stopped on the shoulder and waited calmly as he got out of his patrol car, hitched up his sagging pants, and stalked toward her car with a hand on his belt. He was a stocky middle-aged white guy with a mustache and neatly trimmed sideburns. He tapped on her window, and she rolled it down.

“Good morning, officer.”

He grunted. “Know why I pulled you over, ma’am?”

“No officer.” She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Illegal lane change. Didn’t you see the double yellow lines?”

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m not from around here.”

He grunted again. “Yeah, I noticed the _expired_ Maine plates. License and registration.”

She sighed. This was going to get messy.

“I don’t have them.”

He opened his mouth but closed it as his gaze settled on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat, which still had traces of blood spatter from the night before. “What are those stains, ma’am?”

“Who knows?” Mimi smiled and laughed. “My sister eats in the car all the time. She’s very messy.”

He narrowed his eyes and nodded at the floor. “That why you had the carpet ripped out?”

“Yes.”

He tensed and stood up straighter. “And your passenger door handle?”

“Broke.”

“Ma’am, I’m gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.”

“Certainly officer.” She opened the door and stepped out, leaving it hanging open.

“Hands on the roof of the car.” 

“Anything you say.” She took a few steps to the side and spread her hands on the roof over the backseat. 

“I’m going to pat you down.” He stepped behind her. “You’ll feel my hands–”

“You’ll feel mine first.” She spun around and grabbed his shoulders, wrenching him off the ground and tossing him against the open car door. 

He let out a pained yelp and toppled to the pavement. She lunged on top of him, but not before he drew his gun.

She pinned his arm to the ground and gripped his face to slam his head into the asphalt. Before she could deliver the debilitating blow, something hard pressed into her abdomen. She had miscalculated. Her hold on his arm was too high, giving his wrist the mobility to– 

Mimi’s abdomen exploded in cold, burning shards of steel. She wailed and lost her grip on his face as the shockwave tore through her gut and rang in her ears. Her fingers scrabbled over his throat but– 

A second blast, this one a little bit higher, tearing through her internal organs and leaving her to crumple, limp and in agony atop her wouldbe victim.

He let out a ragged breath and shoved her away as he climbed to his feet. 

His footsteps thudded against the asphalt as he raced to his squad car.

Mimi was pissed.

Fury and a blind will to survive pumped through her veins, numbing the pain and amplifying her strength. She sprang up, ignoring the gore that poured from her torso and soaked the front of her body. 

“Hey! Pig! You want to take another shot?!” 

He stood beside his vehicle, a walkie talkie poised against his lips. It slipped from his fingers as he reached for his gun. 

_Perfect. They always aim for center mass anyway._

“Stop.” He held his weapon with both hands, grim determination on his face. “Get on your knees.”

She kept walking.

The first shot tore through her heart. She stumbled and almost fell, but hardly felt it.

“Stop. Stop.”

The second shot mirrored the first, but on the opposite side of her chest. She shook it off and broke into a clumsy sprint, bearing down on him fast.

“Stop. Stop. Stop.”

Each word was punctuated with more gunfire, and by the time she ripped the weapon out of his hand and threw it into the road her lungs were too shredded to draw breath. 

His eyes flashed with true fear a split second before he punched her in the face and shattered her nose.

She let out a rasping gurgle, furious that she couldn’t taunt him verbally as she slammed him against the side of his cruiser and hurled him face down onto the asphalt.

She stomped his back – once, twice, three times – before diving on top of him, grinding her knee between his shoulder blades as she wrapped one hand around the side of his face and the other around the back of his head.

A quick heave and his neck broke with a satisfying crack.

The satisfaction was brief. Pain and rage surged in equal parts throughout her body as she kept twisting. Round and round. Tighter and tighter. Cartilage snapped and arteries tore. 

His ugly face stared up at her in a rictus of death as she twisted his head all the way around to the back. His cleft chin sat compressed against a neck bloated and squishy with trapped blood. She curled her fingers into his cheek and spit in his mouth as she kept twisting, twisting, twisting. 

His flesh ruptured and spewed hot crimson all over her clammy skin, drenching it in sticky warmth.

Twist, twist, twist.

Twist, twist, twist.

_Rip._

She tore his head off his shoulders and stabbed her fingers through his eyes, determined that her grip wouldn’t slip a second time as she smashed his skull open against the asphalt.

Every instinct told her to feed, to scoop the delicious, gooey treat out of his head. She climbed to her feet instead. Healing would be slow. She had to drive out of sight first and find somewhere safe to rest.

She picked gravel out of his hair as she shambled back to her car.

* * *

Brett stared blankly at the surgical table where he had woken up the night before as Theo buzzed around the lab, pulling out equipment.

Why? Why had Theo resurrected him? They barely knew each other. Was Brett just a science experiment? Or something else, a pawn in a game Theo was playing with Liam? 

The stool creaked as Brett turned and watched Theo tape an eye chart to the door of one of the cabinets that lined the back wall before measuring out a distance in paces from the chart to a space beside the surgical table and over the biohazard bin.

“Come stand over here.” He pushed the red bin away with his foot. “We’ll begin by evaluating your senses and physical abilities.”

“Okay.” Brett rose and shuffled across the short space between them. “Let’s start with strength.”

Theo’s eyes widened then glowed gold as Brett grabbed him by the throat and pinned him against the wall.

“Seems okay. What do you think?” He tightened his grip and slammed Theo back, ignoring the mild pain as Theo’s claws dug into his forearm. “Looks like zombies are at least as strong as werewolves.”

Theo growled and kicked Brett’s shins with dangling legs. 

“Of course you’re not a werewolf.” Brett leaned closer, trying and failing to flash his eyes at the chimera. “But then, neither am I.”

Theo’s pulse strained against Brett’s fingers, his face turning from bright red to dark.

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

“It’s weird. I spent my whole life developing mastery over my supernatural side, taming my bloodlust and embracing peace.” He squeezed, scraping clawless fingers across the hot, soft flesh of Theo’s throat and compressing his windpipe. “But now I don’t see a reason not to kill you. None.”

Theo grunted, an imitation of words.

“Sorry, you’re gonna have to do better than that. My hearing isn’t what it used to be.”

Theo’s claws retracted and he curled his palms around Brett’s arm, raising himself a trembling inch in Brett’s hand and relieving the tiniest measure of pressure. He gurgled and grunted again. 

“Le...am.”

Brett shrugged, neither tightening nor loosening his strangling hold.

“We’re not that close.”

_The sun, the moon, and the truth._

A different face materialized in Brett’s mind’s eye as Theo’s grip on his arm sagged. The lab faded and Brett was crouched in a clearing in the woods beneath the full moon, Satomi’s patient smile looking down at him as his little clawed fingers held a terrified rabbit against the wet grass.

_Do you need to kill that, Brett? It’s helpless._

_Will you be mad at me if I do?_

_I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll still love you._

Brett let the rabbit go.

Theo crashed to the ground in a gasping heap.

Brett shambled back to his stool, eying the deep, bloody gashes in his arm. They stung, but not very much. He propped his elbow on his knee and held the dripping wound away from his body, trying not to bleed on Dr. Geyer’s pants. Fuck Theo’s floor.

“How do I die?” he asked, his back to Theo.

“I could crush your skull.” 

Something rattled and clanked, and when Brett spun the stool he found Theo standing behind him holding a thick, metal box with an ornate padlock.

“You want to?” Brett wasn’t sure what he wanted himself. He craved release from this broken body and the soul-crushing devastation that ripped through his chest with every scant breath he took, but a flicker of instinct told him he would fight if Theo tried anything.

“Desperately.” Theo curled his lip, his fangs showing as his claws clicked against the metal. He was still flushed and breathing heavily. 

Brett curled his own lip into a smirk. “What about Liam?”

The murder faded from Theo’s face along with the marks on his throat, and he set the metal box on the surgical table.

“My arm isn’t healing.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t quake with concern.” Theo opened the cabinet by the sink and tossed him a white towel.

“For that, sure.” Brett wrapped the cotton fabric around his forearm and stood. “But for turning me into an undead abomination without a pack or family?” He loomed into Theo’s space and rumbled in the back of his throat. “Never.”

“So dramatic.” Theo let out an amused puff of air and shoved past Brett to grab the stool. He rolled it into the space he had made across from the eye chart by the surgical table and biohazard bin. “Come here.”

Brett tied a knot in the bloody towel to keep it in place and took up position on the stool. The dead rat Theo had killed the night before stared sightlessly up at him from the otherwise empty bin, its forepaws twisted away from its body at unnatural angles. 

“What’s the lowest line you can read?” 

Brett sighed and glanced at the chart. “ _E Q O_ -oh-oh...”

“Yes, _Oh,_ I’ve got it. Can you make out the next letter?”

Brett clutched his head and shook as the lab was plunged into darkness and he blinked into existence inside a car, bloodied hands that weren’t his own raising a – he inwardly gagged but his stomach didn’t cooperate – a chunk of gray, slimy-slick brain to his mouth. He didn’t taste it, but energy surged through his body and his chest burned with blazing hot life. 

The hands dropped to their lap and – Brett frantically tried to shut his eyes, but it was no use – one hand plunged through a jagged, gaping hole in the back of a decapitated head while the other held it steady. Something squishy and wet tickled Brett’s fingers and then the hand withdrew with another glob of brain.

Darkness dropped over the scene before the second bite reached Brett’s lips. Light rushed back into the periphery of his vision, all but blinding him as the lab resolved back into place.

“Brett? Brett, what are you doing?!”

The sensation of fur in Brett’s fingers made him flinch. He was clutching the dead rat by its head. He watched in morbid fascination as his thumb came down against the back of its elongated gray skull and pressed with a savage strength.

_Crack._

Hungry. Brett had been hungry all morning, but now he was ravenous. He didn’t think, just picked apart the rodent’s shattered skull until its brain was exposed. What was he doing? He couldn’t...

“Go ahead,” Theo whispered from beside him.

Brett sucked the rat’s head into his mouth and ripped its brain out with his teeth. He slurped and twirled his tongue, making sure to get every morsel before mashing it around in his mouth and swallowing. He simultaneously hated and loved the burst of intense, tangy flavor.

He gasped and shook as a wave of warmth rolled down his throat and into his chest. The creature tumbled from his fingers and back into the bin as his stomach exploded with life, and his forearm throbbed and burned. He ripped the towel off, fearing it would erupt into flames if he didn’t. 

“L-look,” he panted as the gashes in his skin stitched themselves closed, his flesh still burning and throbbing over the injury site.

“There’s something else,” Theo whispered.

“What?” Brett could hardly breathe as his senses amplified and a barrage of disparate sensation enveloped him.

It was deafening as Theo dumped the surgical tools off the nearby stand and raised the metal tray in front of Brett’s face so he could see his reflection in the shiny surface.

Euphoria swallowed Brett whole and left him on the verge of tears. His eyes were glowing and his fangs were out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated!


End file.
